155 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


MVT 


OF    THE 

£S  PICAYUNE 

ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  PARLEY 

PHILADELPHIA, 

J.PETERSON  &BRQ 


I  shave  you  oiie  time — You  say  you  pay — I  say  vera  good.'?     (He  shrugs  the 
shoulders.) — Page  172. 


PICKINGS 

FROM  THE 

PORTFOLIO  OF  THE  REPORTER 

OF  THE 

NEW  ORLEANS  "  PICAYUNE." 


'Charley,  old  feller,"  said  Jim,  "  I's  not  what  1  used  to  was — I  ain't  myself — I 

ain't  nobody — I  ain't  nothing — I  wish  I  was  !  I  have  wound  up  my 

affaiz-s,  and  am  in  a  state  of  liquwr-dation." — Page  9. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
T.  B.  PETERSON   &  BROTHERS. 


PICKINGS 


THE  PORTFOLIO  OF  THE  REPORTER 


NEW  ORLEANS  "PICAYUNE: 


COMPRISING   SKETCHES  OP 


THE  EASTERN  YANKEE, 
THE  WESTERN  HOOSIER, 
THE  QUAINT  COCKNET, 
THE  DROLL  IRISHMAN, 
THE  PATIENT  HOLLANDER, 


THE  VOLATILE  FRENCHMAN, 
THE  SELF-SUFFICIENT  EXQUISITE. 
THE  HENPECKED  HUSBAND, 
THE  JOLLY  TAR, 
THE  ECCENTRIC  AFRICAN, 


AND  SUCH  OTHERS  AS  MAKE  UP 


Sorietg  in  tlje  ®rmt  Metropolis  of  tl)e  0ontl) 

WITH 

ORIGINAL  DESIGNS, 

BY    FELIX    O.    C.    P^R,LEY. 


$  Ij  i  I  a  b  e  I  p  I)  i  a : 

T.    B.    PETERSON   &    BROTHERS,    306   CHESTNUT   STREET. 


Ente.tr  1  *TX>rding  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1846,  ty 
CAREY  &  HART, 

ID  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  in  and  for  th« 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


"-OL1IKS,    PRIIfTKE, 


JOSEPH  C.  NEAL,  ESQ. 

SIR — Without  the  privilege  of  your  personal  acquaintance,  I 
take  the  liberty  to  dedicate  to  you  the  accompanying  volume  of 
sketches. 

If  in  them  I  have  succeeded  in  «  holding  the  mirroi^  up  to  nature," 
than  you  there  is  none  more  capable  of  discerning  the  truth  and  PC- 
curacy  of  the  reflection.  I  shall  cheerfully  submit  their  defects  to  the 
impartial  criticism  of  one  so  competent  to  judge  of  their  merits  as  you 

we. 

Your  obedient  servant, 

The  Author, 

D.  CORCORAN. 


730794 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
Jim  Joyce,  who  tried  to  be  a  Temperance  Man,  but  couldn't 

come  it ! 9 

An  Artist  in  Trouble 10 

"Irish  Evenings" 13 

A  Veteran  of  the  Imperial  Army 16 

Artificial  Flowers  and  the  Flowers  of  Poesy 18 

National  Rivalry 20 

The  Last  Card 23 

A  Double  Shave — Bill  Brown  vs.  Augustus  Jones 25 

An  Absconding  Partner 27 

Tom  Trotter  in  Trouble 29 

Kissing — A  New  Year's  Custom 31 

The  Wandering  Minstrel 33 

A  Mrs.  Caudle  in  Court 35 

The  Shaksperian  Boot-Black 37 

Towers  in  Trouble 39 

Laying  Ghosts  and  raising  Spirits 41 

A  Scientific  Subject 44 

A  Sketch  "  Ower  True,"  having  a  Hoosier  for  its  Hero 46 

Lap  Dogs  and  Lobelia 50 

A  Breach  of  Promise 53 

A  Fight  about  the  Fashions 55 

Turkey  and  Grease,  or  domestic  economy  exemplified  in  the 

preparation  of  Gombo 56 

An  Enthusiastic  Phrenologist 58 


6  CONTENTS. 

On  a  Jolly  Spree 61 

The  School  Master  Abroad 63 

A  Scotch  Melodist 65 

An  Irish  Row 66 

A  Trial  of  Skill— The  Rival  Boot-blacks 68 

Happy  Jack— His  Story 70 

Tongue  vs.  Chop 72 

Tom  Towns,  who  don't  like  (Vgee 74 

The  Great  Regulator 75 

The  Lapidary  and  the  Sea-Captain— A  Vertical  Saw 76 

The  Poet  Spouse 80 

Recorder's  Court — Two  of  a  Trade  can  never  agree 83 

A  Serenader — Christopher  Cramer  and  his  Cremona 85 

"Lay  on,  Mick  Duff !" 87 

Domestic  Difficulties  ;  or,  The  One  Woman  Power 87 

A  Scotch  Fee-Losopher 89 

An  attempt  to  Shave  a  Shaver 90 

A  Small  Tea  Party — Showing  the  connection  between  scandal 

and  souchong 92 

Ned  Brown  done  brown 95 

L-a-w! 96 

Regulating  the  Currency 98 

Vagaries  of  the  Moon 100 

Tom  Star 101 

A  Jollification  in  Jail 104 

Tim  Flanigan's  Ghost — A  story  of  the  Charity  Hospital — 

Founded  on  fact 107 

Poor  Jack 109 

Ned  Knox  on  Elections Ill 

Jack  Burns,  the  Busier 112 

Con  O'Donnell  the  Corned 114 

A  real  Game  Cock  of  the  Wilderness 115 

A  Tailor's  Needle  magnified  into  a  Bowie-knife 117 


CONTENTS.  7 

Page 

George  Washington  Wimple,  the  Man  who  prefers  the  Ballad 

to  the  Ballot 119 

A  Muddled  Millerite 121 

The  Loss  of  a  Character 122 

A  Brandy  and  Peppermint  Parly  broken  up 125 

Boot  Blacks  and  Bad  Times 126 

Pleasant  Neighbours 128 

Cookery  and  Calumny — Restaut  versus  Jones 130 

Bob  Battle ....  133 

Cabmen's  Contentions 134 

An  Obsolete  Idea 136 

Jack  Gallagher 136 

Bill  Blummell 138 

The  way  to  make  a  Tetoialler ;  Evaporation,  its  Power— or,  The 

Ingenuity  of  Tippling  Rats 140 

Seeing  the  Elephant — Jim  Griswell 142 

The  Victim  of  Ambition 143 

Jealousy 146 

A  Cabman  in  a  Dilemma — Out-door  Theatricals 148 

A  Tourist  in  Trouble 150 

The  Head  vs.  The  Feet 152 

Living  made  easy , 154 

Adjusting  Ballast 156 

Jimmy  M'Gowan,  who  aided  Nations  in  establishing  their  Inde 
pendence,  but  could  not  secure  his  own 157 

Whiskers;  or,  A  Clean  Shave 160 

Soap  Suds 163 

An  Imposture 165 

Law  in  Mississippi ;  or,  An  offensive  Defence 167 

The  Danger  of  Diddling  a  Barber 171 

Cabbage 172 

Jack  Robinson — A  Salt  who  was  fresh 1 74 

A  Dancing  Master  in  a  Dilemma 176 


8  CONTENTS. 

Pago 

The  Fancy  not  Fancied 178 

Mick  Fan-el's  Serenade 180 

A  Musical  Melee , 181 

A  violation  of  the  Treaty 183 

Allwell,  not  All  Right 184 

Love  and  Letter-writing 18? 

ALiveHoosier 190 

A  Negative  Beauty 191 

A  Public  Patriot ;  or,  An  Acute  Alleghanian 192 

Animal  Magnetism ;  or,  The  Attractive  Venison 195 

A  Tar  in  Troubl  e 198 

A  Mistake ;  or,  The  Broken  Pledge  and  the  Fat  Girl's  Portrait.  200 

How  to  make  a  Raise 201 

A  Strike  among  the  Tailors 203 

The  Mistakes  of  a  Night 205 

Rival  Suitors  ., 207 

Morgan  Manly,  the  Man  that  never  said  "  No  !" 209 

Theophilus  Twist ;  or,  A  Taker-off  taken  off. 210 

Patriotism  in  a  sad  Plight 212 

A  Rum'Un 214 

The  American  Eagle  and  Daniel  O'Connell 215 


PICKINGS 


FROM   THE 


JIM  JOYCE, 

WHO     TRIED     TO     BE     A     TEMPERANCE     MAN,    BUT    COULD**1! 
COME    IT.' 

AN  individual  who  rejoices  in  the  name  of  Jim  Joyce,  was 
lecturing  the  lamp-post  on  the  mutability  of  matter,  at  the  cor 
ner  of  Lafayette  Square,  on  Sunday  night.  His  remarks,  which 
were  delivered  in  a  loud  voice,  brought  the  watchman  on  his 
legs,  as  they  say  in  parliamentary  phrase;  for  he  had  just, 
by  way  of  showing  his  extraordinary  vigilance,  been  taking  a 
comfortable  snooze — or,  to  speak  more  refinedly,  he  had  been 
indulging  in  the  luxuriance  of  an  hour's  somnolency. 

"  Keep  silent !"  said  Joyce  to  the  lamp-post,  as  the  watch 
man  approached  him,  "  and  I'll  explain  the  whole  matter  to 
you." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  said  the  watchman.  "Who 
are  you  ? — eh  ? — Let  me  see.  Why,  I'm  blowed  if  you  aim 
Jim  Joyce  !  What !  Jirn,  my  old  covey,  not  taken  the  pledge 
yet !  Ah,  Jim !  you  must  be  elected  president  of  the  Unre- 
formed  Drunkards ; — you  can  go  the  anti-Washingtonian  ticket 
strong !" 

"  Charley,  old  feller,"  said  Jim,  "  I's  not  what  I  used  to  was 
— I  aint  myself— I  aint  nobody — I  aint  nothing — I  wish  I  was. 
I  have  wound  up  my  affairs,  and  am  in  a  state  of  Hquor-ddL- 
tion !" 

"Yes,  I  guess  as  how  you  have  accepted  a  great  many 
draughts  lately,"  said  the  watchman — "  you  seem  like  it." 

9 


10  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

"  You're  right,  boss — I  has,"  said  Jim  ;  "  but,  dang  it,  the 
legislature  won't  come  to  my  relief.  Don't  you  see  I  haint 
got  no  i  movement,'  and  I'm  used  up  with  '  dead  weight.' " 

'"Well,  come — move  along,"  said  Charley.  "You  haint 
bin  out  of  prison  three  days.  I'll  refer  you  to  a  committee  of 
one,  composed  of  Recorder  Baldwin :  I  guess  he'll  move  for 
your  recommitment, c  with  a  view  to  your  amendment !' " 

"Yes,"  says  Jim;  "but  the  Temperance  Society  has  had 
me  nrider  confide CEftion — 1  find  I  can't  be  amended — I  didn't 
take  no'thing  for  three  days ;  but  I  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer, 
aad  was  £bligs'd  %e  resume  my  drinks.  O!  it's  an  awful  state. 
C&ariey,  For  a  feller  to  be  without  his  bitters  when  he's  used 
to  them !" 

"  Well,  come  along,"  said  the  watchman. — "  Thirty  days  in 
the  new  workhouse  may  have  more  virtue  in  bringing  about 
your  reformation  than  a  Father  Mathew  medal.  We'll  try  it." 

"  Well,  I  aint  agoin'  to  go,"  said  Jim.  "  I  never  keeps  low 
company,  and  you  is  so  cussedly  vulgar  that  they  say  you 
have  to  strike  the  curb-stones,  to  force  them  to  keep  your 
society !" 

This  was  touching  Charley  in  a  tender  point :  it  was  a  per 
sonal  aspersion — a  misdemeanour  of  no  common  magnitude, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  calculated  to  bring  the  officers  of  the  law, 
and,  per  consequence,  the  law  itself  into  disrepute.  There 
was,  therefore,  no  further  parley  between  the  parties,  and 
Charley's  stave,  applied  divers  and  sundry  times  to  Jim  Joyce's 
ribs,  operated  as  a  motive  power  to  his  locomotion'until  they 
arrived  at  the  Baronne-street  watchhouse. 

He  is  now  developing  the  resources  of  the  state  in  the  new 
workhouse. 


AN  ARTIST  IN  TROUBLE. 

As  Recorder  Baldwin  was  yesterday  disposing  of  some  case 
of  ordinary  importance,  a  low,  chubby,  cabbage-headed  Dutch 
man,  and  a  thin,  tall,  attenuated  man  in  a  seedy  black  coat, 
pants  to  match,  and  a  well  brushed  faded  silk  hat  entered  the 
office.  The  first  notice  of  their  presence  which  the  court  had 
was  the  Dutchman  telling  the  tall,  thin,  attenuated  gentleman 
in  the  seedy  dress  and  faded  silk  hat,  that  he  "  wash  a  tarn 
shon  of  a  pitch." 


AN  ARTIST  IN  TROUBLE.  11 

At  this  wanton  interruption  of  the  general  order  of  the  court, 
the  Recorder  cried  "  Silence !"  and  every  officer  in  court  echoed 
the  order. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"Vhy,  here  pe  von  tarn  imposthure  vhat  say  he  painted  my 
shon,  and  it  aint  my  shon,  not  at  all,  Got  tarn."  Here  the 
Dutchman  looked  sourcrout  at  the  tall,  thin  gentleman  in  the 
seedy  black  suit  with  the  faded  silk  hat. 

The  Dutchman  got  a  hint  to  "  shut  up,"  from  one  of  the 
officers,  and  was  told  if  he  did  not  treat  the  court  with  more 
deference,  he  would  have  to  rusticate  in  the  calaboose  for 
twenty-four  hours. 

u  Will  you,"  said  the  Recorder,  addressing  the  tall,  thin  man 
— "  will  you  explain  the  matter  at  issue  between  this  man, 
who  seems  inclined  to  be  so  noisy,  and  yourself.  What  is  it 
that  has  brought  both  of  you  here?" 

"  I  shall  endeavour,"  said  the  tall,  thin  man  in  the  seedy 
suit  of  black,  "  to  comply  with  the  request  of  the  court;  and 
although  in  the  absence  of  my  legal  adviser  I  feel  the  weight 
of  the  responsibility  which  rests  on  me,  yet  trusting  to  the 
truth  of  my  cause,  to  the  enlightened  and  liberal  feeling  that 
pervades  this  court  and  this  great  community  in  every  thing 
which  relates  to  the  fine  arts,  and  firmly  believing  that  in  this 
intellectual  age  when  genius  is  fostered,  when  true  taste  is 
appreciated,  when  brilliant  talents  are  succoured  and  encouraged 
— in  a  word,  may  it  please  the  court,  when  mind  predominates 
over  mere  matter — I  fearlessly  enter  on  the  task  which  the 
court  has  imposed  on  me,  regardless  of  the  results,  when  I 
have  no  one  to  combat  but  the  vegetable  individual — the  ani 
mated  pumpkin  who  now  stands  by  my  side." 

"  Got  tarn  !"  said  the  Dutchman. 

"  Silence  !"  said  the  officer.  And  the  man  in  the  seedy  suit 
proceeded. 

"As  I  was  saying  to  the  court,"  continued  the  man  who 
looked  like  a  target — "  my  picture  of  the  transaction,  like  all 
which  I  have  ever  drawn,  shall  be  life-like.  I  shall  use  only 
the  brush  of  truth,  and  my  colouring  shall  be  natural  and  in 
strict  accordance  with  facts. — The  part  which  I  have  acted  in 
the  affair,  will,  I  am  sanguine  to  say,  furnish  me  with  light. 
This  individual's  conduct," — pointing  to  the  Dutchman — 
"supplies  more  than  a  sufficient  share  of  shade." 

"  Have  you  any  complaint  to  make  ?"  asked  the  Recorder, 
appearing  somewhat  tired  of  listening  to  the  speech  of  ihe  tall, 


12  PICKINGS    FROM    THE    "  PICAYUNE.*' 

thin  man,  which  smelt  strongly  of  vermillion,  black  lead  and 
yellow  ochre. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  tall,  thin  man,  «'  there's  the  rub.  Allow 
lie  for  one  moment  to  brush  up  my  memory,  and  I  shall  an 
*  unvarnished  tale  deliver'  of  the  transaction." 

"  You  tarn  humpug,"  said  the  Dutchman,  in  a  tone  which 
did  not  reach  the  bench. 

"  My  name,  may  it  please  the  court,"  said  the  tall,  thin  man, 
"is  Jones — Sylvester  Jones,  at  the  service  of  the  court.  I  am  a 
professor  of  the  fine  arts,  or  as  it  is  vulgarly  called,  a  painter. 
I  am  a  F.  R.  S.,  and  R.  A.,  and  an  A.  S.  S.  This  individual 
here,  whose  name,  as  well  as  I  can  pronounce  it,  is  Johan 
Vonhickenslaughter.  What  an  abominable,  unpoetical  name  !" 

"  No  matter  about  the  euphony  of  the  name,"  said  the 
Recorder.  "  What  has  he  done  ?" 

"  WThy,"  said  the  artist,  "  he  employed  me  to  take  a  por 
trait  of  his  eldest  son,  a  mere  human  animalcula  I  assure  you, 
with  no  more  expression  in  his  face  than  there  is  in  a  peeled 
turnip.  Well,  of  course  I  gave  a  life-likeness  of  the  boy. 
My  great  forte  is  in  catching  the  expression  of  the  eye  and  the 
muscles  of  the  mouth,  but  d n  me — (beg  the  court's  par 
don)— -he,  I  say,  had  no  expression  to  catch. — Well,  I  took 
the  picture  home,  and  would  the  court  believe  it,  instead  of 
paying  me  for  it,  this  individual  offered  me  personal  violence 
because  his  son's  portrait  did  not  resemble  a  picture  of  the 
younger  Bonaparte,  which  he  had  hanging  up  in  his  room, 
and  whom,  he  says,  his  son  resembles,  ha!  ha!  ha! — Beg  the 
court's  pardon  again,  but  really — cannot  avoid  laughing  at  the 
individual's  idea — a  perfect  monomania,  I  assure  you." 

"  Got  tarn,  doesh  you  shay  dat  pe  like  my  shon  ?  It  ish  like 
not  no  one,  Got  tarn."  Here  the  Dutchman  exhibited  what 
the  artist  called  a  perfect  likeness  of  Mrs.  Vonhickenslaughter's 
first  born,  but  which  was  in  truth  as  like  an  antiquated  Dutch 
doll,  Admiral  Vonbroom,  or  a  pair  of  twin  apples  grafted  to 
gether,  as  it  was  like  the  human  face  divine  of  either  the  young 
Dutchman  or  any  one  else. 

"  Whesh  mhy  shon's  nose,  or  mhy  shon's  eyh's,  or  mhy 
shon's  red  cheeks  ?  Got  tarn,"  said  the  Dutchman,  as  he  point 
ed  to  where  those  different  features  should  be  on  the  painting. 

The  Recorder  said  he  was  not  prepared  to  say  what  were 
the  talents  of  the  artist,  or  how  far  his  own  account  of  his 
professional  abilities  was  correct,  but  he  certainly  did  not  look 
on  th<*  picture  exhibited  as  a  chef  d'ceuvre  in  the  way  of  por- 


"IRISH  EVENINGS."  13 

trait  painting,  nor  could  he  undertake  to  tell  how  nearly  it 
resembled  the  original,  as  the  amiable  youth  whose  likeness 
it  purported  to  be  was  not  present.  As  there  was  no  actual 
assault  proven  he  refused  to  grant  a  warrant,  and  dismissed 
the  parties,  advising  Mr.  Vonhickenslaughter  to  permit  little 
Vonhickenslaughter  to  set  once  more  to  Sylvester  Jones,  the 
artist. 

The  Dutchman  left  the  office,  swearing  that  no  "  tarn  hum- 
pug  should  nhever  phaint  hishshon."  "Mhyshon,"  he  said, 
"  ish  like  young  Bhonaparte,  put  that  phicter  whashn't  like 
nhopody,  Got  tarn." 


"IRISH  EYENINGS." 

MODERN  language  and  novel  interpretation  have  changed  in 
a  great  degree  the  meaning  of  words.  For  instance,  "  Irish 
Evenings"  may  mean  evenings  in  England,  evenings  in  France, 
evenings  in  Timbuctoo,  or,  in  fact,,  evenings  in  any  part  of 
the  globe.  Will  the  gentle  reader — all  readers  are  gentle  by 
courtesy,  just  as  members  of  congress  are  all  "  honourable" — 
will  the  gentle  reader,  then,  allow  us  to  illustrate.  The  last 
we  heard  of  Samuel  Lover,  the  gifted  poet,  painter  and  musi 
cian,  he  was  giving  a  series  of  entertainments  in  Liverpool, 
England,  which  he  called  "  Irish  Evenings ;"  and  Brougham, 
the  comedian,  who  was  here  last  winter,  was,  per  last  news 
paper  report,  giving  "  Irish  Evenings"  in  one  of  the  New  Eng 
land  cities.  We  say  thus  much  to  show  that  when  we  speak 
of  "  Irish  Evenings"  in  New  Orleans,  we  are  guilty  of  neither 
bull  nor  blunder — we  but  follow  in  the  wake  of  others,  to 
take  our  cue  from  whom  is,  we  contend,  both  legal  and  legit 
imate. 

Whether  Mick  Maguire,  the  hero  of  our  "  Irish  Evenings," 
meant  to  copy  after  Lover  or  Brougham  we  know  not;  but 
certes  it  is  that  he,  like  them,  has  had  his  u  Irish  Evenings." 
The  scene  of  the  last  of  them  was  laid  in  Girod  street,  and 
the  time  was  Friday,  ten  o'clock,  P.  M.  Of  this  fact  we  be 
came  informed  by  seeing  at  the  police  office  yesterday  the 
aforesaid  Mick  Maguire,  Terence  Tooley,  and  we  know  not 
how  many  others,  all  parties  either  plaintiffs  or  defendants. 
Mick  Maguire,  it  appeared,  was  the  great  feature  in  the  even 
ing's  fun,  and  on  him  fell  the  burden  of  the  charge,  rather  a 


14  PICKINGS  FROM   THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

serious  one  in  its  nature,  embracing  the  crimes  of  disturbing 
the  peace,  assault  and  battery,  interfering  with  the  watchman 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  &c. 

After  a  careful  notation  of  the  charge,  or  series  of  charges, 
by  the  Recorder,  he  asked — "  What  have  you  got  to  say  in 
your  defence,  Mr.  Maguire  ?" 

"O,  murther !  murther!  Recorder,  jewel,"  said  Mick,  "is 
me  life  goin'  to  be  sworn  away  by  a  vagabone  haythin'  like 
Ned  Nowlan,  who  never  crassed  his  forehead,  and  has  no 
more  b'lief  in  the  forgiveness  o'  sins  and  the  communion  o' 
saints  than  I  have  in  the  prophecies  of  Parson  Miller." 

Recorder. — "  It  is  evident  from  the  testimony  of  the  watch 
man,  that  there  was  a  violent  disturbance  of  the  peace.  How 
did  it  come — or  who  was  the  cause  of  it?" 

Mick. — "  O,  faith,  I'll  tell  you  that  your  honour,  in  less  time 
than  I'd  be  tuning  my  pipes,  though  the  story  don't  furnish 
altogether  so  sweet  music." 

Mick,  it  is  necessary  here  to  premise,  is  one  of  those  wan 
dering  minstrels,  vulgarly  called  a  piper,  who  supports  himself 
by  his  execution  on  the  bagpipes.  The  race  is  almost  extinct, 
and  Mr.  Maguire,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  a  degenerate  speci 
men  of  the  Carolans  of  a  former  period. 

"In  the  first  place,  your  honour,"  continued  Mick,  "here's 
the  billydoo,  as  they  call  it,  that  I  got  to  attind  at  377  Girod 
street  last  evenin'." 

Here  he  handed  a  soiled  and  awkwardly  folded  note  to  the 
Recorder,  which  read  thus — 

"  Miss  Margaret  O'Hern  presints  her  compliments  to  Mr.  Maguire, 
Begs  he  will  make  one  of  a  small  tay  party  at  her  house  this  evenin'. 

P.  S.  Coffee  will  be  on  the  table  at  8  o'clock.  Let  Mr.  M.  not  forget 
to  bring  the  sticks  with  him." 

"  Yis,  sir,"  said  Mick,  she  manes  the  pipes,  and  faith  I 
wint  with  them  yoked  on  to  me  arm  as  tight  as  if  the  ribbon 
attached  to  the  chaunther  was  put  there  by  Cohen,  the  bleedher." 

Recorder. — "  But  what  was  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  and 
disturbance  of  the  peace  that  occurred  ?" 

JMick. — "  Divil  a  haporth  at  all,  your  honour.  You  see, 
whin  I  wint  to  Margaret's,  there  was  as  dacent  a  crowd  of  boys 
and  girls  assimbled  there  as  iver  I  saw  at  the  pathren  of  siven 
churches.  '  YeVe  wilcome,  Mr.  Maguire,'  sis  one.  4  How  is 
every  rope's  length  of  you,  Mick  ?'  sis  another.  '  The  divil 
burn  the  roof  o'  the  house  ye're  not  welcome  to,'  sis  a  third. 
4  Musha,  more  power  to  your  elbow  for  bringin'  the  pipes,' 


"IRISH  EVENINGS."  15 

sis  a  fourth ;  and  that  was  the  way  they  most  kilt  me  with 
compliments.  '  Yer  sarvints,  gintales,'  sis  myself,  and  sorra 
a  word  more  I  sed,  but  took  me  sate  in  the  corner.  '  Lit's 
have  a  blow  o'  yer  bags,'  sis  Murty  Malone.  c  Ah,  whisht, 
Murty,  avic,'  sis  me  murneen  lawn.  Miss  O'Hern,  'don't  ask 
Mick  to  play  till  he  wets  his  whistle.' " 

Recorder. — "  But  come  to  the  assault  and  disturbance  of 
he  peace." 

Mick. — "  Why,  your  honour  don't  think,  I  hope,  that  the 
tongue  of  a  poor  Irish  piper — a  wandherin  minsthrel,  as  Tom 
Moore  sis — is  a  locomotive  or  a  magnetic  tiligraph,  that  can 
go  through  a  story  in  a  minit.  I'm  an  me  oath,  an'  want  to 
tell  the  whole  truth." 
•  Recorder. — "Go  on,  then." 

Mick. — "  Well,  thin,  as  I  was  sayin',  I  tould  Miss  O'Hern 
that  I  felt  much  obleeged  to  her,  but  that  sorra  a  dhrop  I  took 
sthronger  than  tay  or  could  wather  since  I  took  the  pledge, 
barrin'  lemonade,  and  with  that  she  makes  me  a  tumbler  as 
swate  as  her  own  bewitchin'  smile." 

Recorder.—"  Well,  about  the  assault  ?" 

Mick. — "Faith,  that's  what  I'm  comin'  to;  but  did  you 
ever  hear  a  good  tune  played  unless  the  symphony  went  be 
fore  it  ?" 

Recorder. — "Go  on." 

Mick. — "  Well,  be  gor,  I'd  scarcely  time  to  screw  on  the 
sticks,  whin  up  they  wor  on  the  floor,  paired  as  purty  as  pi 
geons.  They  called  for  an  Irish  jig,  and  I  sthruck  up  '  Moll 
Roe  on  the  Mountain.'  Well,  me  dear — I  beg  yer  honour's 
pardon — well,  your  honour,  I  mane  to  say — to  it  they  wint, 
and  sure  enough  they  had  it  '  hands  acrass' — c  turn  yer  part 
ner' — '  right  an'  lift ;'  be  joxty,  they  wint  the  whole  figure,  as 
the  sayin'  is,  till  I  was  tired,  an'  they  wor  twice  as  tired  as  I 
was." 

Recorder. — "  I  can  stand  this  no  longer ;  I  insist  on  your 
coming  to  the  case  before  the  court." 

Mick. — "Sure  I  am  comin'.  Well,  whin  the  dance  was  over 
you  see,  Tom  Fosther  comes  up  to  me — troth  it's  himself  has 
the  bad  Cromwellian  blood  in  him— and  sis  he  to  me,  '  play 
us  a  tune,  Mick,'  sis  he,  '  while  the  boys  is  gittin'  their  part 
ners.'  'With  the  gratest  pleasure  in  life,'  sis  I,  '  what's  your 
favourite  ?'  'Croppy  lie  down,'  sis  he.  '  I'd  lose  me  life  be 
fore  I'd  disgrace  me  pipes  with  the  like  of  it,'  sis  I.  '  More 
power  to  your  elbow,  Mick,'  sis  Fa~»-ell  Farley ;  '  play  us  the 


16  PICKINGS   FROM    THE  u  PICAYUNE." 

•  Shanvanvouth,'  or  the  «  Battle  of  Tara.' '  <Ah,  that's  ould 
ninety-eight  brakin'  £>ut,'  sis  Tom.  '  An'  didn't  you  want 
to  throw  Shamus  ahocka  (King  James)  in  our  teeth  ?'  4  You 
lie,'  sis  Tom.  '  You  lie,'  sis  Farrell.  '  Take  that,'  sis  Tom. 
4  An'  that,'  sis  Farrell ;  an'  thin,  your  honour,  there  was  a 
gineral  ruckawn — a  sort  of  a  permiscous  skrimmage — and 
divil  a  haporth  more  do  I  know  about  it.  Me  own  pipes 
was  made  kippeens  of  in  the  row,  and  I  b'lieve  I'd  have  been 
kilt  intirely,  only  for  me  gardian  angel,  Miss  O'Hern — may  the 
cloud  o'  misfortune  never  darken  her  bright  looks." 

The  Recorder,  finding  it  impossible  to  discriminate  between 
the  plaintiffs  and  defendants,  bound  all  the  parties  over  to  keep 
the  peace. 


A  VETERAN  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  ARMY. 

THE  most  prominent  picture  in  the  Recorder's  gallery  of 
portraits  yesterday  morning  was  Macenat  Fournier.  Poor 
Macenat!  adversity  has  left  its  traces  deep  and  visible  on  thy 
features,  and  however  bright  your  sun  of  life  may  have  risen, 
it  will  set  ere  long,  obscured  by  the  clouds  of  misfortune.  In 
order  to  see  Macenat  in  the  mind's  eye,  a  brief  outline  of  his 
outer  man  is  indispensably  necessary.  He  must  have  seen 
some  fifty  summers  ;  aye,  and  a  like  number  of  winters.  The 
summers  have  embrowned  his  features,  and  given  to  his  face 
a  mandarin  kind  of  colour ;  the  winters  have  frosted  his  hair,  and 
left  Time's  tracks  on  his  forehead.  He  was  dressed  in  a  much- 
worn  military  frock,  in  a  hat  of  feltless  antiquity,  and  in  trousers 
which  were  once  white,  but  now  needed  no  committee  to  decide 
that  they  wanted  washing.  Two  or  three  faded  tri-coloured 
ribands  were  suspended  to  thebreast  of  his  coat ;  the  remnant 
of  what  was  once  a  moustache  clung  to  his  upper  lip ;  he  held 
in  his  hand  a  cane  stick,  to  which  was  attached  a  leather  tassel, 
and  at  his  feet  lay  a  half-starved  long-haired  French  terrier 
dog. 

"  Where  did  you  find  this  man  ?"  said  the  Recorder,  address 
ing  the  captain  of  the  guard,  and  referring  to  Fournier. 

"  He  was  sleeping  in  the  cathedral,"  said  the  officer,  "  and 
his  dog  well  nigh  bit  me  when  I  went  to  arrest  him." 

uWhat  brought  you  into  the  church?"  said  the  Recorder, 
speaking  tc  Fournier,  "why  were  you  sleeping  there?" 


A  VETERAN  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  ARMY.          17 

"Ah!"  said  Fournier,  "I  went  to  pay  my  respect — my 
devoir  to  the  memory  of  le  grand  Empereur !  great  shen- 
eral !  mighty  man !"  and  his  lustreless  eye  was  for  a  moment 
lit  up  by  his  enthusiastic  recollection  of  the  hero  of  a  hundred 
fights. 

"  What  did  you  know  of  the  General  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  What  I  know  of  him  ?"  said  the  little  veteran,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "ah, 'Mon  Dieu!  Mon  Dieu !  I  know'd  all  of 
him;  I  much  wid  him;  I  mess  wid  him;  I  fight  w id  him;  I 
retreat  wid  him  from  Moscow  ;  I  die  wid  him. — He  be  one  very 
little,  big,  great  General !" 

"  Bow  !  ow  !  ow !"  barked  the  little  dog  that  lay  at  Fournier' s 
feet,  looking  up  wistfully  in  his  master's  face,  as  if  he  intuitively 
had  learned  that  he  was  in  difficulties. 

"  Ah,  poor  doggy !"  said  the  Frenchman,  and  a  tear  drop 
started  into  the  puckered  corner  of  his  eye,  "  you  is  de  only 
one  friens  old  Fournier  has  left.  De  French  Republic  gone — 
Bonaparte  gone — wife  gone — son  gone — daughter  gone — all 
be  gone  but  you.  You  stick  to  old  Macenat  whether  he  have 
money,  whether  he  have  bread,  whether  he  have  house,  or 
whether  he  have  nothin'.  Doggy !  master  have  no  Hospital 
of  Invalides  to  shelter  him,  and  when  he  die  you  have  no  one 
to  give  you  de  crust  of  bread,  and  you  die  too.  Ah,  Mon  Dieu ! 
Mon  Dieu!" 

"  Have  you  belonged  to  the  imperial  army  ?"  said  the  Re 
corder. 

"  Ow/,  ow?,"  said  the  little  Frenchman,  "  me  'bliged  to  sell 
my  medals^  but  there  be  rny  certificate  of  service,"  pointing  to 
a  sabre  wound  on  his  jaw,  to  another  on  his  head,  and  to  a 
gun  shot  wound  on  his  leg,  "  dere,  dere,  dere !" — Here  the  little 
dog  barked  again,  and  the  Frenchman  patted  him  affectionately 
on  the  back. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  this  country  ?"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"  Twenty  and  one  two  years,"  said  the  Frenchman. 

"Why  did  you  come  to  this  country  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Ah,  that  be  too  much  sorrowful  to  tell,"  said  the  French 
man.  "My  sheneral,  the  brave  Napoleon,  he  be  sent  to  St. 
Helena,  my  wife  she  die,  my  son  and  my  daughter — fine  boy 
fine  girl ! — dey  come  to  dis  country  of  liberty ;  de  imperial 
army  be  disbanded,  and  poor  Macenat  have  no  friend  in  France 
but  his  dog,  and  he  come  after  his  children  and  take  his  dog 
wid  him,  but  he  nevare  find  dem,  nevare,  nevare — dey  die,  and 
59 


18  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  *C  PICAYUNE." 

leave  him  and  his  dog  alone  in  strange  country.  Ah>  Mon 
Dieu  !  Mon  Dieu  !" 

"  Then  you  went  to  the  church,  I  suppose,"  said  the  Recorder, 
;-  to  witness  the  funeral  ceremony  of  your  late  Emperor." 

u  Owi,  owi,"  said  the  war-worn  soldier,  tt  me  had  no  friend  to 
give  me  the  entree ;  but  me  determined  to  be  there  or  to  die,  so 
I  sleep  there  all  night,  and  my  good  dog  he  watch  for  me." 

"  Well,  take  this,"  said  the  Recorder,  and  he  slipped  a 
Mexican  casting  into  the  hand  of  Fournier,  "  go  and  get  thee 
some  wine  for  there  will  be  no  funeral  service  to-day." 

A  crowd  of  conflicting  passions  rushed  into  the  countenance 
of  the  old  Frenchman,  but  whether  joy  at  receiving  the  gift, 
pleasure  at  being  released  from  durance,  or  sorrow  that  he 
could  not  gratify  his  feelings  by  assisting  in  the  funeral  celebra 
tion  of  le  grand  Empereur,  predominated,  the  most  discerning 
physiognomist  could  not  discover. 

He  left  the  office,  making  divers  bows  and  gesticulations  of 
gratitude,  and  his  dog  mutely  seconded  his  motions  by  sundry 
subdued  friskings  and  wags  of  his  tail. 


ARTIFICAL  FLOWERS  AND  THE  FLOWERS  OF  POESY. 

A  most  romantic  looking  young  lady,  calling  herself  Lavina 
Allen,  complained  before  Recorder  Baldwin  yesterday  that 
she  was  in  personal  fear  of  sustaining  bodily  injury  from  Mrs. 
Harley,  whom  she  prayed  the  court  to  bind  over  to  the  peace. 
Lavina's  face  resembled  a  hawthorn  bush  covered  with  white 
spray  of  a  frosty  morning,  there  was  such  a  profusion  of  white 
powder  stuck  upon  it ;  her  hair  was  drawn  back  a  la  Chinois, 
and  her  bonnet  was  so  retiring  that  it  covered  but  one  half  of 
her  head.  Her  neck  was  long,  and  as  she  was  squeezed  into 
one  of  the  modern,  narrow  sleeved,  close  fitting  dresses,  she 
looked  like  a  finger  board  at  a  cross  roads  pointing  opposite 
ways. 

Mrs.  Harley  was  also  present,  and  looked  like  a  woman  who 
slept  twelve  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  and  had  both  her 
washing  and  her  fretting  done  out. 

"  What  has  this  lady  done  ?"  said  the  Recorder,  addressing 
the  amiable  Lavina  and  pointing  to  Mrs.  Harley. 

"  She's  a  nasty,  vulgar  creeter,"  said  Lavina,  looking  dis 
dainfully  at  Mrs.  Harley,  "  and  has  no  soul  for  poetry. — 


ARTIFICIAL  FLOWERS,  &C.  19 

"  '  Beautiful  language  !     Love's  peculiar  own. 

Not  for  the  cold,  the  careless  to  impart, 

By  such  sweet  signs,  the  language  of  the  heart.'  " 

"  She  may  not  be  blessed  with  a  very  exuberant  imagina 
tion,"  said  the  Recorder — "  she  may  not  have  the  '  nack  o' 
rhyme,'  as  Burns  calls  it,  but  although  she  have  not,  it  is  no 
evidence  that  she  is  of  a  quarrelsome  disposition  and  should 
be  bound  over  to  keep  the  peace. — To  me  the  woman  appears 
quiet  and  peaceable." 

Lavina. — 

"  '  Ah!  that  deceit  should  assume  such  gentle  shapes.' 

Just  you  see  her,  sir,  of  a  day  when  there  aint  good  business 
done  in  the  shop ;  then  she  makes  folks  fly  about." 

u  Pray,  of  what  does  this  young  woman  accuse  you,"  said 
the  Recorder  to  Mrs.  Harley. 

Mrs.  Harley. — "  Please  your  honour,  I  manufacture  artificial 
flowers,  and  had  this  girl  and  three  or  four  others  to  work  for 
me." 

"Girl!"  said  Lavina;  "there's  more  vulgarity." 

"  Silence  !"  said  the  peace  officer. 

"Well  as  I  was  saying  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Harley,  "I  manufac 
ture  artificial  flowers,  and  work  for  several  respectable  families ; 
but  Lavina  here  is  eternally  talking  poetry  about  love  and  non 
sense,  keeping  the  rest  of  the  girls  from  their  work.  I  some 
times  remonstrate  with  her,"  continued  Mrs.  Harley.  "  I  fear 
she  is  touched  in  the  head,  and  have  great  compassion  for 
her." 

Lavina. — 

"  '  What  is  compassion  when  'tis  void  of  love  ? 
She  pities  me ! 

To  one  that  asks  the  warm  return  of  love, 
Compassion's  cruelty — 'tis  scorn,  'tis  death.'  " 

"  Do  you  owe  her  any  thing  ?"  said  the  Recorder  to  Mrs. 
Harley. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Harley,  K I  owe  her  five  dollars,  and 
I  offered  it  to  her  but  she  refused  to  take  it." 

"  I  despise  your  dollars,"  said  Lavina,  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word  with  a  swing  of  her  arm. 

"  '  The  wealth  I  request  is  that  of  the  heari, 
The  smiles  of  affection  are  riches  to  me.1  " 

"  Poor,  dear  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Harley,  "  it  is  coming  on  her 
now.  She  would  be  an  excellent  girl  if  she  could  be  made  to 
forget  her  poetry." 


20  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

Lavina. — u  I  would  not  be  placed  on  an  intellectual  level 
with  you  for  all  the  artificial  flowers  that  you  ever  sold  and 
manufactured. 

'  She  alone  all  competition  towers 

Who  adds,  to  other  gifts,  high  mental  powers.'  " 

Mrs.  Harley. — [To  the  Recorder,  aside,  and  in  an  under 
tone] — u  Fact  is,  sir,  I  b'lieve,  from  scraps  of  writing  which  I 
saw  in  her  room,  that  she  is  in  love." 

Recorder. — "You  should  mind  your  work,  young  woman, 
and  forget  those  idle  phantasies.  This  woman  is  not  going 
to  injure  you." 

Lavina. — 


Dost  thou  deem 


It  such  an  easy  lask  for  the  fond  breast 

To  root  affection  out  ? 

They  sin  who  tell  us  love  can  die ; 

With  life  all  other  passions  fly, 

All  others  are  but  vanity.'  '* 

"  Lavina,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  you  may  go :  I  shall  be  bail 
myself  that  Mrs.  Harley  won't  assault  you.  If  she  should, 
come  here  and  I  will  give  you  ample  satisfaction." 

Lavina. — 

"  '  I  have  a  greatful  soul — would  give  you  thanks, 
And  know  not  how  to  do  it  but  with  tears. 

[She  weeps.] 

Take  my  thanks,  that  yet  hath  nothing  else — 
If  fortune  serves  me,  I'll  requite  thy  kindness.'  " 

Lavina  bowed  gracefully  and  withdrew,  and  Mrs.  Harley 
closed  her  hands  before  her  breast  and  looked  up  to  the  ceiling, 
as  much  as  to  say, — La,  me !  how  I  pity  that  poor  crazed 
girl. 


NATIONAL  RIVALRY. 

As  the  election  excitement  increases,  so  does  the  sale  of 
whiskey  punches,  and  so  do  the  prisoners  at  the  police  office 
Why  the  effect  follows  the  cause,  we  are  not  metaphysicians 
enough  to  divine,  and  therefore  content  ourselves  by  stating 
the  facts.  On  Saturday  night  two  men  were  arrested  by  a 
cabbage-faced  Dutch  watchman :  the  one  was  a  tall  Scotch 
man,  with  legs  as  long  as  a  surveyor's  instrument,  and  a  nose 
speckled  like  Scotch  plaid  :  the  other  was  a  dumpy,  potato- 
faced  Irishman — each  of  them  had  a  "  wee  drap  in  his  'ee," 


NATIONAL  RIVALRY.  21 

and  each  was  as  full  of  love  for  fatherland,  as  an  inflated  bal 
loon  is  full  of  gas. 

"  To  the  d 1  I  bob  you  and  Scotland,"  said  the  Irish 
man,  "  sure  it's  no  counthry  at  all  at  all — nor  never  was. 
Where  was  Scotland,  I'd  like  to  know,  whin  there  was  no  one 
in  Ireland  but  saints,  and  kings,  and  princes  ?  and  no  houses, 
but  all  castles,  that  neither  ould  Nick  nor  ould  Nol  could 
make  a  braych  in  ?" 

"  Weel,  weel,  Mr.  O'Toole,"  said  the  Scotchman,  «  it  is  nae 
the  cook,  or  the  rooster,  as  folks  here  ca'  him — it  is  na  the 
rooster,  I  say,  that  craws  loodest  that  maks  the  best  fight. 
Auld  Scotland  was  a'ways  where  she  is  noo  mon — that  is  just 
ayont  the  Tweed.1' 

"  O,  ye're  an  uncivilized  set  of  haythens,  any  how,"  said 
Mr.  O'Toole.  "  Hav'nt  ye  always  ran  wild  through  the  High 
lands,  like  logins,  without  as  much  as  a  bit  of  breeches  on 
yer  legs  ?" 

"  I  acknowledge  we  have,  Mr.  O'Toole,  and  so  ha'  the  ancient 
Romans — they  wore  nae  breeks  when  they  conquered  the 
world,"  said  the  Scotchman,  whose  name,  we  should  before 
have  told  our  readers,  was  Sandy  MacPherson. 

"  Thin,  where's  your  national  music  ?  where's  your  harp  ? — 
the're  both  like  Brien  Flanagan's  cow,  when  she  got  drown'd 
in  the  bog-hole — faith  the're  missin." 

"  They're  nae  sick  a  thing,"  said  MacPherson,  "  we  ha'  goot 
oor  Highland  bagpipes,  and  it  can  stir  up  the  bluid  o'  a  Scotch 
man  any  day  as  weel  as  your  harp." 

"  O,  Holy  Moses!"  exclaimed  O'Toole,  "  d'ye  call  the  noise 
made  by  that  bresna  of  sticks,  music !  why,  be  jabers,  I'd  put  a 
turkey-cock  under  my  arm,  catch  his  bill  between  my  fingers, 
and  make  him  play  as  good  music  as  your  bagpipes  any  day  :— 
music !  well,  if  that  is'nt  takin'  a  liberty  with  the  king's  Eng 
lish,  there's  no  shamrocks  in  Ireland.  The  Scotch  fiddle  is 
the  only  instrument,  that  I  know  of,  ye  can  lay  any  claim  to !" 

"  Vera  weel,  vera  weel,"  said  MacPherson,  "  let  us  nae  quar 
rel  aboot  it." 

"  Well  thin,  why  don't  ye  whist  ?  said  O'Toole,  "  don't  be 
makin'  a  Judy  Fitzimmons  of  yerself.  I  suppose  you'll  be 
afther  tellin'  me  that  yer  poetry  is  as  good  as  ours  too  !" 

"  Yes"  and  I'll  maintain  it  too,"  said  MacPherson,  evincing 
some  warmth  of  manner  for  the  first  time. 

"You  can't,"  said  O'Toole,  "no  more  than  you  can  stop 
the  Shannon  with  a  pitchfork." 


22  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  fct  PICAYUNE." 

MacPherson  thought  he  could,  and  was  determined  he 
would,  so  from  the  compositions  of  the 

"  Lyric  singers  of  that  high  soul'd  land," 

he  made  a  selection  from  his  favourite,  Rabby  Burns,  and  com 
menced  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 

"  O  Thou,  my  muse  !  guid  ould  Scotch  drink, 
Whether  thro'  wimpling  worms  thou  jink ; 
Or,  richly  brown,  ream  o'er  the  brink 

In  glorious  faem 
Inspire  me,  till  I  lisp  and  wink, 

To  sing  thy  name." 

"  Stop  that,"  said  O'Toole,  "  jist  drop  it  like  a  hot  prayta, 
if  you  wish  to  have  your  head  whole ;  that's  a  national  reflec 
tion — it  conveys  a  double  on-ton-dray,  as  the  French  say ;  it's 
an  insinuation  against  Irish  potheen,  the  shuperiority  of  which, 
above  all  other  liquors,  never  was  questioned  before,"  and  he 
began  singing  louder  than  the  Scotchman,  if  not  sweeter, 

"  There's  not  in  the  wide  world,  a  liquor  yet  known, 
That's  as  good  as  the  potheen  of  famed  Innesshoun." 

When  a  Dutch  watchman  came  up,  who  looked  like  a  mam 
moth  locomotive  head  of  cabbage,  and  said,  "  sthop  that  tarn 
noise — what  be  for  makin'  such  fush  ?" 

"  You  be  d d,  old  leather  head,"  said  O'Toole ;  "  be 

carefu',  Charley,"  said  MacPherson,  "  that  you  dinna  go  ayont 
the  boonds  o'  your  duty:  if  J  ken  the  constitution  rightly,  it 
says  naething  aboot  the  impropriety  of  folks  crooning  a  song 
in  the  public  streets." 

"  I  whants  no  law  from  no  one  but  the  Recordher,"  said  the 
Dutchman  ;  he  struck  the  curb  stone,  put  the  pair  of  worthies 
under  arrest,  and  marched  them  to  the  watch-house.  Mac 
Pherson,  when  there,  complained  of  the  act  as  a  wanton  out 
rage  on  his  personal  liberty,  and  O'Toole  said  that  his  Milesian 
blood  was  ready  to  gush  from  his  veins  when  he  thought  of  it. 

When  they  got  out  they  forgot  their  mutual  national  antipa 
thies,  and  conjointly  heaped  maledictions  on  the  leather  heads 
of  all  watchmen  in  general,  and  on  that  of  the  Dutch  watch 
man  in  particular. 


THE  LAST  CARD. 


THE  LAST  CARD. 

WILLIAM  TIMMONS, a  sallow  looking,  nervous  little  man,  was 
the  most  clamorous  appellant  for  justice  who  appeared  before 
Recorder  Baldwin  yesterday.  A  good  natured  looking  woman, 
fat,  fair  and  forty,  who  wore  as  many  frills  and  fringes  as  a 
lady  of  the  haul  ton  in  the  Elizabethean  age,  had  a  hold  of 
him  by  the  arm,  and  seemed  to  be  using  all  the  persuasive  elo 
quence  of  which  her  sex  in  cases  of  emergency  are  so  capable. 
When  she  found  her  tongue  flagging,  she  called  a  pair  of  once 
bright  eyes  to  her  aid,  which  were  still  far  from  being  lustre 
less;  and  if  neither  tongue  nor  eyes  seemed  to  make  the 
desired  impression,  she  gave  his  arm  a  gentle  pressure,  or 
pulled  him  half  playfully,  half  persuasively  by  the  breast  but 
ton  hole  of  the  coat.  It  being  outside  the  bar,  in  the  court, 
the  conversation  was  carried  on  in  an  undertone.  We  were 
ignorant  of  the  subject,  but  could  see  from  the  pantomime  ia 
which  Mr.  Timmons  indulged,  that 

•' he  heeded  not  the  voice  of  the  charmer 

Though  charmed  she  never  so  wisely." 

"  I  don't  care,  I'm  determined  to,"  said  Mr.  Timmons. 

"  Lor'  bless  you,  Mr.  Timmons,"  said  the  fat  woman  with 
the  frills,  "you  know  the  hinnocent  birds  don't  know  nothing 
about  whigs  or  locofocos,  now  don't  Mr.  Timmons." 

"  1  will,"  said  Mr.  Timmons ;  "  I'm  determined ;  I  don't 
blame  the  birds ;  but  I  want  to  have  the  fullest  satisfaction 
which  the  law  will  allow." 

"  Won't  you  listen  to  reason,  Mr.  Timmons  ?"  said  the  fat 
woman. 

"  I'll  listen  to  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Timmons,  speaking  as 
loudly  as  if  the  fat  woman's  sense  of  hearing  was  very 
imperfect. 

"  What  is  that  noise  about  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"I  wants  to  tell  your  honour  all  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Tim 
mons. 

"  So  do  I  too,  your  honour,"  said  the  fat  woman  with  the 
frills. 

"  Which  of  you  is  the  complainant  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  1  am,  please  the  court,"  said  Mr.  Timmons. 


24  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

"  He  haint  got  no  complaint  to  make,"  said  the  fat  woman 
with  the  frills. 

"  Silence,"  said  one  of  the  police  officers. 

"  Let  us  hear  your  complaint,"  said  the  Recorder,  addressing 
Mr.  Timmons. 

"  Certainly  sir,"  said  Mr.  T.,  and  pushing  the  hair  up  off 
his  forehead,  applying  a  red  pocket  handkerchief  to  his  pro 
boscis,  and  giving  a  couple  of  short  coughs,  he  commenced. 

u  You  see,  sir,  this  here  woman  and  I  is  next  door  neigh 
bours.  I  am  a  locofoco  as  strong  as  plain,  and  she  is  a  wio- 
lent  vhig." 

"  O,  good  gracious !"  ejaculated  the  fat  woman  with  the 
frills ;  u  did  you  ever !" 

"  Silence,"  said  the  peace  officer. 

"How  do  you  know  she's  a  whig?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  'Cause,  don't  they  say  the  vimen  are  all  vigs  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Timmons ;  "  besides  I  knows  from  what  she  has  taught  her 
birds." 

"  O  Lor'  ha'  mercy  on  me,"  ejaculated  the  fat  woman  with 
the  frills,  "  I  aint  nothin'  but  a  poor,  lone  widder." 

"  What  has  she  taught  her  birds  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  said  Timmons,  "  she's  got  what  she  calls 
a  havery,  (an  aviary)  where  she  keeps  all  kinds  of  foreign  and 
domestic  hanimals  in  the  bird  line,  and  she  has  taught  them 
all  to  abuse  me  and  my  principles." 

u  How  so  ?"  asked  the  Recorder.  "  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Why,  just  this  here  way,  your  honour,"  said  Timmons  : 
"  she  has  got  a  crooked-nosed,  green  parrot  at  her  door,  and 
ven  ever  he  sees  me  he  begins  to  laugh  at  me,  and  he  sings — 

" '  Did  you  hear  the  news  from  Maine,  Maine,  Maine  ?" 

"  And  more  times  he  sings — 

'  Van,  Van,  Van — 
Van  is  a  used-up  man  !' 

u  Then  she's  got  some  other  kinds  of  foreign  birds  that 
says — '  Kinderhook  cabbage,  Kinderhook  cabbage,  sour  crout, 
eour  crout;  Matty,  go  home;  Matty,  go  home.' 

"  I  merely  want's  to  have  her  bound  over  to  keep  the  peace," 
said  Mr.  Timmons,  "  and  not  to  be  annoying  me." 

"  Won't  your  honour  hear  me  ?"  asked  the  fat  woman  with 
the  frills. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Recorder ;  "  step  forward." 

"  Well,  you  see,  your  honour,  I  haint  got  a  bird  in  the  wide 


A  DOUBLE   SHAVE.  25 

world  but  a  parrot,  an  English  lark,  and  a  Guinea  hen  •,  and 
they  are  all  the  company  I  has  since  my  poor,  dear  old  man 
died.  This  here  man,  Mr.  Timmons,  is  a  werry  good  man, 
but  he  sometimes  gets  tipsy,  and  when  he  does  he  says  my 
birds  do  be  singing  Tippecanoe-  songs  and  talkin'  politics : 
there  aint  one  on  'em  can  speak  a  word,  your  honour,  but  the 
parrot,  and  she  don't  say  nothin'  but  '  pretty  Poll,  pretty  Poll.' 
1  believes,  your  honour,  it's  all  owin'  to  the  influence  of  liquor, 
for  when  he's  sober  he  don't  say  nothin'." 

"  Are  you  afraid  this  woman  will  do  you  any  injury  r" 
asked  the  Recorder  of  Mr.  Timmons. 

"  I  is  not,"  said  Mr.  Timmons  ;  "  but  I  or>ly  requests  that 
her  birds  won't  be  riggin'  me  'bout  my  politics." 

u  O,  well,"  said  the  Recorder, "  since  the  birds  are  not  amen 
able  to  this  court,  I  can't  dwell  longer  on  this  case.  It  is  dis 
charged." 

u  O,  Mr.  Timmons,  Mr.  Timmons,"  said  the  fat  woman  with 
the  frills,  "  aint  you  a  pretty  next  door  neighbour,  to  bring  a 
poor,  lone  widder,  that  hain't  got  no  one  but  herself  and  her 
birds,  into  court." 


A  DOUBLE  SHAYE. 

BILL    BROWN   VS.  AUGUSTUS    JONES. 

THIS  case  excited  considerable  interest  in  the  Recorder's 
court,  Saturday.  Brown  is  an  English  sailor.  Augustus  Jones 
belongs  to  the  sable  race,  and  fills  the  vocation  of  mariner's 
tons^ur  on  the  Levee. 

"  State  your  complaint,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"To  save  this  honourable  court  trouble,"  said  a  little  six- 
and-eight-penny  lawyer,  u  I  have  made  a  brief  of  my  client, 
Mr.  Brown's  case,  and  shall  read  it,  if  the  court  will  command 
silence." 

Here  he  pulled  from  the  pocket  of  his  thread-bare  coat 
about  a  quire  of  foolscap,  closely  written  over,  and  com 
menced — 

"  Whereas,  this  day " 

Recorder. — "Stop — stop,  sir!  You  don't  mean  10  read  all 
that !" 

Jlltornzy. — u  Certainly,  may  it  please  your  honour.  My 
duty  to  my  client,  justice  to  my  own  professional  reputation, 


26  PICKINGS    FROM    THE    "PICAYUNE." 

and  my  innate  desire  for  the  triumph  of  equity  and  the  punisli 
ment  of  fraud,  all  bid  me  read  it." 

Here  the  little  attorney  gave  a  thump  to  a  volume  of  Moreau's 
Digest  which  lay  before  him  on  the  table,  that  made  its  cover 
resound  like  Mr.  Cripps'  kettle-drums! 

Recorder. — "  I  care  not,  sir,  what  or  who  bids  you  read  it 
— I  forbid  you  to  read  it,  so  sit  down.  Are  you  aware,  sir, 
that  I  have  already  heard  the  President's  message  read  to-day  ?" 

•Attorney. — "  Sir,  that  is  not  a  case  in  point." 

Recorder. — "  I  tell  you,  sir,  I'll  point  you  out  to  a  police 
man  if  you  don't  at  once  sit  down." 

Attorney. — "  Then  I  appeal !" 

Policeman. — "Silence! — [in  an  under  tone] — Appeal  and 
be  d d !" 

The  little  lawyer  left  the  office  in  disgust,  and  Bill  Brown 
stept  up  to  tell  his  own  story  in  his  own  way.  He  plucked  off 
his  little  glazed  hat,  made  a  deposit  of  the  extract  of  his  quid 
on  the  boards,  rubbed  the  left  cuff  of  his  blue  jacket  across  un 
der  his  nose,  gave  his  canvass  trousers  a  hitch  up,  and  com 
menced — 

"  You  see,  your  wu'ship " 

Policeman. — "  There's  no  one  worshipped  here." 

Brown. — "  O,  Lord  love  you,  messmate,  it's  all  the  same, 
for  the  matter  o'  that.  The  Admiral  there  (pointing  to  the 
Recorder)  knows  the  way  I'm  steering." 

Recorder. — "  Go  on  with  your  complaint." 

Sailor. — "  Aye,  aye,  sir;  but,  Commodore,  dang  my  buttons 
if  I  know  what  point  I  was  sailing  at,  when  I  put  my  helm  to, 
to  talk  to  this  lubber  here." 

Recorder.—"  State  why  you  have  summoned  this  coloured 
man  here." 

Sailor. — "All  right,  your  honour ;  I  know  my  reckoning  now. 
Well,  you  see,  I  goes  into  this  here  fellow's  this  morning,  to 
have  a  shave — to  wash  of  decks  like; — well, he  did  shave  me, 
and  may  I  be  food  for  sharks  before  another  week,  your  honour, 
if  I  didn't  suffer  more  by  the  operation  than  I  did  when  I  was 
shaved  the  first  time  I  passed  under  the  line." 

Recorder.—"  Well,  what  followed  ?" 

Sailor. — "  Why,  your  honour,  I  gave  him  a  $2  bill,  and  he 
only  gave  me  thirteen  of  these  (ten  cent  pieces)  in  change ; 
and  he  threatened,  your  honour,  unless  I  made  sail,  to  scuttle 
me  on  the  spot." 

Recorder. — "  Jones,  what  have  you  to  say  to  this  charge  ?" 


AN    ABSCONIING    PARTNER.  27 

Jones. — "  Pse  got  nuffin  to  say,  no  how,  your  honour,  but  1 
make  dis  statement  in  my  own  offence.  As  for  de  shabin'  ob 
dis  here  gemmafi,  nuffin  wax  neber  nicerer  don,  for  I  jus  oper 
ated  per  se  right  ober  his  face,  as  Captain  Tyler  would  say, 
Yaw !  yaw !" 

Recorder. — "  No  impertinence,  sir,  stick  to  your  story." 

Jones. — "'Cuser,  massa,  I  will.  Wai,  you  sees,  I  does  bis- 
ness  on  cash  princerples — 'cause  I  doesn't  look  on  dose  banks, 
you  see,  as  very  'stantial,  no  how.  If  a  gemman  comes  in,  1 
shaves  him — dat  ere's  a  bit ;  if  he  gives  me  a  note  I  shaves  dat 
too — a  bit  in  de  dollar — and  dat's  wat  I  calls  de  'gitimate  bankin' 
bisness." 

The  Recorder  made  Jones  refund  the  sailor  two  bits,  and 
as  he  avowed  he  had  no  fear  of  being  "scuttled"  by  the  bar 
ber,  the  case  was  thus  adjusted. 


AN  ABSCONDING  PARTNER. 

"  Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman." 

WE  lost  our  umbrella  once,  and  know  what  a  sadness  comes 
over  the  heart  on  ascertaining  the  loss  of  that  necessary  ar 
ticle.  Our  new  hat  has  been  taken  "  by  mistake"  from  a  party, 
and  a  shocking  bad  one  left  in  its  stead,  at  which  we  felt 
"miffed."  We  lost  our  passage  on  board  a  steamboat  on  a 
certain  momentous  occasion,  after  having  paid  our  fare,  and 
our  chagrin  was  considerable.  But  as  we  never  had  a  wife  we 
never  lost  one,  and  consequently  cannot  tell  the  degree  of 
misery  which  such  a  bereavement  is  calculated  to  inflict ;  nor, 
perhaps,  sufficiently  sympathize  with  those  on  whom  such  a 
thunderbolt  of  misfortune  falls.  If  we*  could  be  magnetized 
by  the  hero  of  our  sketch,  we  know  we  would  have  tears  to 
shed,  and  would  be  "prepared  to  shed  them  now." 

There  was  something  very  peculiar  in  the  look  of  Alfred 
Keating,  as  he  sat  in  the  prisoner's  box  yesterday.  His  face 
was  for  the  most  part  of  the  time  covered  in  his  hands ;  but 
occasionally  he  would  suddenly  raise  it  up  and  placing  hi? 
open  hands  before  him  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  in  an 
attitude  expressive  of  dislike,  he  would  say  to  an  interesting 
looking  woman  who  sat  on  the  side  bench — "Away  !  away' 
thou  unit  of  a  deceitful  sex.  I  hate  ye !" 

Now  we    have  not   a   doubt   that  the  lady  to  whom  this 


28  PICKINGS    FROM    THE     "PICAYUNE." 

tragically  told  exhortation  was  addressed,  would  have  willingly 
complied  with  the  wish  of  Mr.  Keating  and  gone  off',  but  it 
happened  that  the  Recorder  had  something  professional  to  say 
to  her  ere  she  departed. 

"You  were  found  in  St.  Charles  street  last  night,  Mr. 
Keating,"  remarked  the  Recorder,  u  making  much  noise  and 
acting  very  strangely." 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  answered  Mr.  Keating,  driving  his 
fingers  through  his  hair — u  I  know  it,  sir ;  but  has  she  been 
found  ?  Where  is  the  faithless  one  ?" 

"What  one?"  asked  the  Recorder — "of  whom  do  you 
speak  ?" 

"  Of  Anna,  lovely  Anna  !  faithless  Anna  !  my — no,  no,  not 
my  Anna  !"  said  Mr.  Keating,  sinking  his  voice  and  falling 
back  in  his  seat  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief. 

"  What  was  this  man  doing  when  you  arrested  him  ?"  asked 
the  Recorder  of  the  watchman. 

"  O,  he  vas  cutting  up  all  kinds  of  extra  shines,"  said  Charley, 
"like  these  here  theatric  fellers.  He  catches  me  by  the  collar, 
and  my  eyes  !  but  he  gave  me  a  shake — '  tell  me  vere  she's 
gone,'  he  says,  'or,  by  heavens  !  thou  diest.'  Yes,  yer  honour, 
I'm  blowed  if  he  didn't  swear  just  so.  4  It  is  that  ere  voman 
you  means,'  said  I,  4  that  passed  by  about  half  an  hour  ago, 
under  the  influence  o'  liquor  ?  Vy,  she's  gone  right  to  the 
vatch  'us.'  '  Willian,'  said  he, *  thou  liest!  she  ran  avay  vith 
the  bandy-legged  tailor,  and  has  left  me  here  the  sport  of  for 
tune.'  Veil,  your  honour  sees,  I  thought  as  how  he  had  got 
the  man  with  the  poker,  or  sum'it  o'  that  sort,  and  I  brought 
him  to  the  vatch  'us." 

"  You  hear  the  charge  of  the  watchman,"  said  the  Recorder 
to  the  prisoner. 

"  Hear  !"  said  Alfred  Keating — "  I  hear  nothing,  I  see  no 
thing — the  world  is  a  chaos  to  me,  and  every  object  in  creation 
wears  a  loathsome  hue.  If  a  fitful  light  does  for  a  moment 
break  on  in  my  mind,  it  is 

'  A.  light  like  that  with  which  hell-fire  illumes 
The  ghastly,  writhing  wretch  whom  it  consumes !' 

81 

'  Like  moonlight  on  a  troubled  sea, 
Bright'ning  the  storm  it  cannot  calm.' 

I'm  a  miserable  man,  sir,  I'm  a  miserable  man." 

"  But  your  misery,  whatever  be  its  source,"  said  the  Re 
corder,  u  does  not  give  you  a  license  to  disturb  the  public  peace." 


TOM    TROTTER   IN    TROUBLE.  29 

u  Were  he  a  man  of  comely  person  and  fine  proportions," 
said  the  semi-mad  Mr.  Keating,  "  the  misfortune  might  have 
fallen  lighter  on  me  ;  but  to  forsake  me,  who  feared  c  the  winds 
of  heaven  might  visit  her  too  roughly,'  for  a  tailor — a  mere 
fraction  of  a  man — a  human  form  made  by  one  of  nature's 
worst  journeymen  !  It  is  too  much,  too  much — but 

'  She's  gone — I  am  abused — and  my  relief 
Must  be — to  loaihe  her.     O. curse  of  marriage, 
That  we  can  call  these  delicate  creatures  ours, 
And  not  their  appetites  !'  " 

"  That?ll  do,"  said  the  Recorder,  who  had  heard  enough 
now  to  know  that  the  better  half  of  Mr.  Alfred  Keating  had 
made  a  transfer  of  herself  and  her  affections  to  some  one 
whom  Alfred  deemed  less  worthy  of  both  than  himself.  "  Mr. 
Keating,"  added  the  Recorder,  "I  shall  discharge  you  this 
morning ;  but  if  brought  up  here  again,  I  will  find  means  to 
keep  you  from  making  a  noise  in  the  streets  at  an  unseasonable 
hour." 

Mr.  Keating  left  the  office  ejaculating — "  O  !  Anna,  Anna ! 
source  of  all  my  bliss  and  all  my  woe !" 


TOM  TROTTER  IN  TROUBLE. 

"  THAT  was  a  mighty  accurate  remark  of  Newton's,"  said  an 
individual  who  passed  up  Poydras  street  at  a  late  hour  Thurs 
day  night,  u  it  was  a  mighty  accurate  remark  of  his,  that  the 
world  turned  round.  I  only  wonder  that  the  fact  was  not 
discovered  and  promulgated  long  before.  1  knew  it  by  intui 
tion,  and  I  have  ocular  demonstration  of  it  this  instant.  See 
there ;  isn't  the  lamp  turning  round,  and  isn't  it  making  as 
many  faces  at  me  as  a  clown  in  the  circus  would  at  the  audi 
ence.  Isn't  that  cotton  bale  dancing  a  quadrille  with  the  mo 
lasses  barrel,  and  isn't  the  curb-stone  '  changing  partners'  with 
the  mackerel  cask.  That's  the  way  to  do  it — '  hands  across' 
— '  down  the  middle.'  "  At  this  moment  he  lost  his  equilibrium 
and  fell  off  the  sidewalk  into  the  gutter. 

"  Look  here,  old  fourth-proof  Jamaica,"  said  the  watchman, 
"you  is  like  some  of  these  fellers  wot  goes  about  tell  in'  'bout 
'tarnal  punishments  and  all  that — you  doesn't  practice  wot 
you  preaches ;  instead  of  going  '  down  the  middle'  you  have 


30  PICKINGS  FROM   THE   "PICAYUNE." 

gone  down  the  side.     Jest  get  up  and  try  it  again.     Where 
abouts  does  you  live  ?" 

"Live!"  said  the  now  recumbent  discoverer  of  centripetal 
force,  "  where  do  I  live  ?  The  question  is  a  narrow  one,  and 
presupposes  a  littleness  of  soul  and  a  contraction  of  the  ideas. 
I  live,  sir,  in  the  world — my  home  is  on  it. — Attachments  for 
*}etty  localities  I  despise— in  domestic  matters  I  am  purely 
osmopolitan.  I  live  abroad,  sir — everywhere." 

"  Why,  you  must  be  a  werry  nice  man,"  said  the  watchman ; 
"  I  vonders  vere  you  gets  your  vashin'  done ;  but  it  aint  no. 
matter.  I  guess  I'll  supply  you  vith  lodging,  though,  like  the 
appearance  of  the  vonderful  voman,  it  may  be  but  '  for  von 
night  only.'" 

"  You're  a  gentleman,"  said  the  philosopher — who  was  still 
in  the  gutter — in  a  maudlin  tone, "  you're  a  gentleman  ;  though 
for  one  of  that  character  most  confoundedly  disguised.  But 
tell  me,  do  you  demand  cash  in  advance — do  you  require 
payment  before  going  to  bed  ?  because  I've  made  it  a  rule  never 
to  do  these  things.  It  throws  doubt  on  a  man's  respectability 
to  do  so.  Prompt  payments  did  very  well,  sir,  for  our  igno 
rant  and  benighted  ancestors,  but  it  won't  do  for  the  present 
enlightened  age.  No,  sir,  the  greatest  men  and  the  greatest 
nations  go  in  debt,  and  the  deeper  they  go  the  greater  their 
respectability.  Look  at  England,  sir,  there's  a  great  nation ! 
And  why  is  she  great  ?  Because  she  is  greatly  in  debt ;  that's 
the  secret  of  her  greatness ;  and  if  you  ask  Sir  Robert  Peel 
he'll  tell  you  the  same.  I'd  be  a  great  man  myself,  but  the 
people  are  so  ineffably  stupid  that  they  won't  give  me  credit. 
Why',  for  the  last  six  weeks  I  have  stopped  at  six  several 
boarding  houses,  and  the  owners  are  so  invincibly  ignorant 
of  the  true  principles  of  greatness,  that  they  have,  every  one 
of  them,  refused  to  trust  me  for  more  than  one  week's  board. 
Horrible  state  of  society,  sir." 

"  Blow  me,"  said  the  watchman,  "if  I  doesn't  b'lieve  you 
is  a  'tinerant  lect'rer,  or  a  mesmeriser,  or  summat  o'  that  sort 
— you  talk  like  a  book.  But  come  with  me,  I'll  show  you 
the  elephant." 

The  watchman  led  him  off  to  Baronne  street,  he  assuring 
watchy,as  they  went  along,  that  he'd  be  forever  indebted  to  him, 

"  Zcrology,"  he  said,  "is  a  favourite  study  of  mine,  and  in 
the  contemplation  of  nothing  is  my  ideas  of  animated  nature 
more  expanded  and  elevated  than  in  surveying  the  mighty 
elephant." 


KISSING A  NEW  YEARNS  CUSTOM.  31 

Changing  his  tone  from  one  of  admiration  to  one  of  inter 
rogation,  he  asked — 

"  Did  you  say  brandy  and  water,  my  friend  ?  Thank  you ; 
the  night  is  somewhat  chilly,  that's  a  fact.  I've  no  objection 
to  take  a  little,  though  my  habits  generally  speaking  are  tem 
perate,  very." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  watchman, "  you  look  as  much  like  a  tem 
perance  man  as  I  do  like  a  bishop.  If  I  can't  promise  you 
brandy  and  water,  you  may  rely  on  getting  coffee  without 
Sllgar — (this  is  the  workhouse  rations) — come  along,"  and 
here  the  watchman  struck  his  club  against  the  curb-stone. 

"  A  light  breaks  in  on  me,"  said  the  philosopher,  "  you're 
a  watchman — are  you  not  ?" 

44  Well  I  is,  hoss,"  said  the  Charley,  "  and  you  is " 

"  A  gentleman  in  difficulties,"  said  the  philosopher. 

"  No  you  don't,"  said  the  watchman,  "  you  don't  come  the 
giraffe  over  me  that  a  way,  you  is  a  great  naturalist,  and  does 
like  to  see  the  elephant,  I  knows  you,  now  that  I  gets  a  full 
look  at  you ;  you  is  Tom  Trotter,  the  loafer,  and  no  mistake." 

The  watchman  was  not  mistaken  in  his  man,  for  Tom  was 
fully  recognised  by  the  Recorder  yesterday  and  sent  to  take 
coffee  without  sugar  for  thirty  days. 


KISSING— A  NEW  YEAR'S  CUSTOM. 

MICK  MAHONY,  Mrs.  Biddy  Mahony  and  Nancy  Don^hoe 
were  individually  and  collectively  charged  yesterday  before 
the  Recorder,  by  the  watchman,  with  disturbing  the  peace. 

Miss  Donahoe  was  a  good-looking,  round,  red-faced,  blve- 
eyed  girl.  Mrs.  Mahony  was  a  hard-featured,  sharp-nos^d 
lady,  with  a  tongue  which  seemed  to  operate  on  the  principles 
of  perpetual  motion;  and  Mr.  Mahony  was  a  humorous-look- 
ing  character,  with  a  leer  in  his  eye  and  a  laugh  playing  about 
the  corners  of  his  mouth,  which  were  well  calculated  to  excite 
the  jealousy  of  Mrs.  M.  when  so  comely  a  colleen  ak  Nancy 
Donahoe  was  in  the  case. 

The  watchman  was  proceeding  to  state  the  charge  with 
loquacious  verbosity,  but  Mrs.  Mahony  claimed  of  the  courf 
the  right  to  relate  the  matter  herself,  alleging  that  she  was  the 
injured  individual.  As  she  would  not  be  silent,  the  Recorder 
assented,  and  she  went  on,  her  lord  and  master,  Mick,  looking 


32  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

imploringly  into  her  eyes  in  the  meantime,  and  making  an  ap 
peal  to  her  pity  in  the  following  words : — 

"  Biddy,  Biddy,  jewel,  be  aisy,  and  if  ye  can't  be  aisy,  be  as 
aisy  as  you  can." 

Biddy  heeded  not  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  but  proceeded. 

"  Well,  ye  see  on  New  Year's  night,  yer  aner,  I  had  a  nice 
little  tay  party  at  me  place  ;  and  of  coorse,  whin  the  kimmecns 
(tea  equipage)  was  removed,  we  had  a  dhrop  of  punch  in  aner 
of  the  night,  though  sarrah  a  dhrop  of  it  did  I  take  meself,  on 
account  of  the  pledge." 

"  There's  a  good  one !"  said  Mick,  in  sotto  voce,  turning  to 
Nancy  Donahoe. 

"  Mrs.  Mahony,"  said  the  Recorder,  "you  are  too  discursive 
— too  prolix.  1  only  wish  you  to  state  the  cause  of  the  riot 
or  disturbance." 

"  I'm  comin'  to  the  point,  yer  aner,"  returned  Biddy. 

"  O,  Biddy,  acushla,"  said  Mick,  "  ye  know  'twas  all  a  bit 
of  a  joke — a  New  Year's  night  frolic." 

"  A  purty  joke  it  was,  ye  desavin'  villian  !"  exclaimed  Biddy. 
"That's  the  father  of  me  four  childher — to  be  kissin'  that 
brazen-faced  hussey  there  the  instant  ye  got  me  back  turned — 
and  you  purdindin'  to  be  so  jealous  of  Tim  Doolin  all  the 
time,  that  was  me  mother's  cousin  be  his  father's  side,  and — " 

u  Mrs.  Mahony,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  cannot  sit  here  and 
listen  to  the  genealogy  of  your  family  or  the  degree  of  con 
sanguinity  that  exists  between  you  and  Tim  Doolin.  I  again 
call  on  you  to  come  to  the  cause  of  the  disturbance  for  which 
you  were  all  arrested." 

"  Well,  thin,"  resumed  Mrs.  Mahony,  "  whin  we  were  all 
sated  round  the  table,  as  happy  as  ye  plase,  chattin'  and  talkin' 
about  ould  times,  Mick  sis  to  Harry  Whelan,  sis  he — <  Harry, 
avick,  lit's  have  a  song.'  'Always  contint,'  sis  Harry.  '  What'll 
ye  have,  Mrs.  Mahony  ?'  sis  he  to  me.  '  Plase  yourself,  Mis- 
ther  Whelan,'  sis  I,  '  and  ye  plase  me ;'  so  with  that  he  com- 
minced  'Hurra  for  O'Connell,  who'll  git  us  Repale!'  Well, 
he  hadn't  well  begun  it  whin  me  bowld  Mick  sis — c  I  beg  yer 
pardin,  ginteels,' — jist  that  a-way,  quite  purlitely  like — and  up 
he  gits  and  walks  out,  and  out  he  stays,  and  sarrah  a  sign-  of 
him  there  was  comin'  in  whin  the  song,  which  has  twinty 
one  varses  in  it,  was  incored.  Well,  yer  aner,  I  begins  to  smill 
a  rat,  and  I  ups  and  goes  to  the  dure,  and  there  I  hears  Miss 
Donahoe,  the  forward  minx, — though  she  looks  now  as  if 
butthei  wouldn't  milt  in  her  mouth — singin'  in  great  glee 


THE  WANDERING  MINSTREL.  33 

Rory  O'More.'  Well,  I  stales  to  the  windy — she  lives  nixt 
Jure — aild,  sure  enough,  whin  she  cum  to  the  chorus  of  '  It's 
eight  times  to-day  that  ye  kissed  me  afore,'  the  vagabone  does 
shute  the  action  to  the  word,  and  gives  h£r  a  smackin'  thorum- 
pogue  !  Well,  'twas  too  much  for  flesh  and  blud  to  stand,  so 
of  coorse  I  gev  both  of  thim  what  they  desarved — I  gev  thim 
sugar  in  their  tay  !" 

"  That's  sufficient,"  said  the  Recorder. — "  What  have  you 
to  say,  Mr.  Mahony  ?" 

Mick  smiled  amorously,  drew  his  hand  over  his  face,  and 
looked  archly  between  his  extended  fingers  at  Nancy  Donahoe* 
and  Mrs.  Mahony.  He  acknowledged  the  soft  impeachment  of 
kissing  Nancy,  but  pleaded  in  extenuation  the  privilege  of  do 
ing  so  on  New  Year's  night;  and  further,  that  Biddy  kissed 
Tim  Doolin  right  forninst  his  face ! 

The  Recorder  viewed  the  affair  in  the  same  hilarious  light 
that  Mick  Mahony  did,  and  discharged  the  parties  on  paying 
jail  fees. 


THE  WANDERING  MINSTREL. 

WHEN  we  entered  the  police  office  yesterday  we  cast  our 
eye  along  the  file  of  prisoners  as  is  our  wont,  with  a  view  of 
picking  out  a  "  character,"  just  as  Bonaparte  would  run  his 
quick  glance  along  the  lines  to  pick  out  a  man  for  important 
duty  or  promotion.  To  the  right  of  the  column  we  perceived 
a  prisoner  whom  we  at  once  knew  was  above  and  beyond  the 
ordinary  class,  of  lock-up  prisoners.  He  had  the  bearing  of  an 
Olympic  god,  the  brow  of  Orpheus  and  the  bust  of  an  Apollo 
Belvidere.  We  at  once  set  him  down  as  some  body,  and  we 
were  not  much  mistaken.  He  was,  or  rather  is,  a  musician — 
a  fiddler — a, man  of  quavers  and  crotchets,  who  kills  time  by 
keeping  time;  who  is  at  once  the  victor  and  victim  of  sharps 
and  players,  and  is  played  on  by  flats.  The  time  was  when 
there  was  a  halo  of  romance  thrown  round  the  troubadour  or 
the  wandering  minstrel — when  he  could  write  a  sonnet  to  his 
"  mistress'  eyebrows,"  and  accompanied  by  his  harp  or  lute 
sing  it  under  her  latticed  window  without  the  fear  of  intrusion 
or  interruption. — But,  alas  !  the  days  of  romance,  like  the  days 
of  chivalry,  are  now  passed,  and  if  a  "child  of  song"  attempts 
to  tune  his  Cremona  now  in  the  highway  or  byway  after  gun 
60 


34  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

fire — a  Charley,  with  no  more  music  in  his  soul  than  there  is 
animation  in  a  pumpkin,  comes  up  and  hustles  him  off  to  the 
.watchhouse  before  he  can  sound  his  A. 

From  the  statement  made  by  the  watchman  it  appeared  that 
the  prisoner,  Jack  Gamut,  was  arrested  in  Tchoupitoulas  street 
on  Wednesday  night,  echoing  the  sounds  of  silvery  music. 
He  was  essaying, 

"  With  sweetest  touches  to  pierce  his  mistress'  ear 
And  draw  her  home  with  music." 

Thus  went  his  song;  his  tune  on  his  fiddle  was  somewhat 
erratic^  not  following  exactly  in  the  same  musical  track : — 

JACK'S  SONG-— Air,  "  The  Minstrel  -Boy." 
The  minstrel  boy  on  a  spree  is  gone, 
In  the  street  you're  sure  to  find  him  ; 
He  plays  on  three  strings  instead  of  one, 
Thus  leaving  Paganini  behind  him. 

"  0  !  spirit  of  music,"  the  fiddler  sung, 
Should  the  Charlies  not  alarm  me, 


I'd  rosin  my  bow  'till  the  evening's  gun, 
I'd  play  night  and  day  to  charm  ye." 


The  watchman,  who 

" heeded  not  the  song  of  the  charmer,'* 

came  up  and  without  parley,  politeness,  or  explanation,  took 
the  wandering  minstrel  off  to  the  calaboose. 

"  Tour's  is  rather  a  hard  case,"  said  the  Recorder,  addressing 
Jack  Gamut. 

UO,  your  honour,"  said  Jack,  "  I  don't  care  three  thraw- 
neens  about  the  case;  I'm  mighty  anxious  about  the  fiddle 
though." 

"  You  are  charged  with  disturbing  the  peace,"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"  Be  gor,  your  honour,"  said  Jack,  "  that's  impossible ; 
because  the  piece^  music,  poethry  and  all  was  me  own  com 
position." 

"  The  watchman  says  you  were  annoying  the  whole  neigh 
bourhood,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  O,  the  dirty  haythen,"  said  Jack, "  sure  he  was  fast  asleep 
when  I  comminced  playin',  and  would  not  wake  'till  mornin* 
if  it  was  not  for  me  music ;  and  pon  me  sow],  between  you 
and  me,  I  think  there's  more  merit  due  to  me  in  wakin'  him 
up  than  there  was  to  Orpheus,  who  made  stones  and  trees 
dance  quadrilles,  they  say." 


A  MRS.  CAUDLE   IN  COURT.  35 

"Well,  I'll  discharge  you  this  time,"  said  the  Recorder, 
"  but  mind  that  you're  never  caught  out  serenading  so  late 
again." 

"O,  may  the  bow  string  of  your  honour's  life  never  be 
broke,"  said  Jack,  "  'till  its  last  jig  is  finished" — and  saying 
this  he  left  the  court,  nothing  the  worse  for  his  night's 
serenade. 


A  MRS.  CAUDLE  IN   COURT. 

MRS.  TITMARSH,  (a  lady  of  the  Caudle  school,)  and  her  hus 
band,  made  something  of  a  stir  in  the  Recorder's  court  yester 
day.  The  complaint  made  by  the  watchman  was,  that  they 
were  disturbing  the  peace  when  he  arrested  them  :  but  in  what 
manner,  Mrs.  Titmarsh  would  not  permit  him  to  tell :  she 
would  not  allow  Mr.  Titmarsh  to  explain,  nor  would  she  be 
silenced  by  the  Recorder.  She  evidently  concluded  there  was 
talking  to  be  done;  a-nd  having  no  mean  opinion  of  her  own 
powers  of  loquacity,  was  determined  to  take  it  all  to  herself — 
indeed,  it  seemed  to  be  with  her  a  "  labour  of  love." 

Recorder. — ct  Watchman,  state  the  circumstances  of  these 
people's  arrest." 

Mrs.  Titmarsh. — "  Will  your  honour  hear  me  ?  I'm  a  decent 
married  woman,  and  have  got  three  small  children — two  of 
them  twins,  that  will  be  two  years  of  age  next  4th  of  July, 
provided  they  get  over  the  measles ;  and,  besides, " 

Recorder. — "  And  besides — I  don't  see  what  your  twins 
have  to  do  with  the  arrest.  Let  the  watch " 

Mrs.  Titmarsh. — "  O,  I  don't  want  to  have  the  ear  of  the 
court  poisoned  by  a  watchman,  that  never  had  no  twins  in  his 
life — that  never  had  no  husband  to  trifle  with  his  feelings,  and 
that  doesn't  know  nothing  of  how  the  tender  sensibilities  of  a 
confiding  woman  are  lacerated  and  laid  bare  by  the  conduct 
of  an  ungrateful  husband.  O,  Tit,  Tit !" — and  here  she  looked 
a  look  both  of  mixed  sorrow  and  of  anger — "O,  Tit,  Tit!  I 
knew  it  would  come  to  this !  and  what  w%uld  I  care  if  it  was 
not  for  my  little  boy,  that's  at  the  public  schools,  and  the  two 
little  twins,  that's  at  home  with  the  negro. — What " 

Mr.  Titmarsh,  (in  a  peace-invoking  voice.) — u  Well,  dear, 
it  was  your  own  fault.  If  you  had  held  your  tongue,  the 
watchman  would  have  never  minded  us." 

Mrs.  Tilmarsh.—"  My  fan)* !— if  I  held  my  tongue  !     O ! 


36  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

don't  drive  me  mad,  Titmarsh ! — don't  you  talk  to  me  about 
holding  my  tongue !  How  could  any  poor  woman,  with  two 
twins,  hold  her  tongue- — that  would  have  such  a  husband — 
such  a  hypocrite  of  a  husband,  1  may  say,  as  you  are  ?  O, 
you " 

Recorder. — "  I  must  hear,  madam,  why  it  was  that  you  have 
been  brought  before  me." 

Mr.  Titmarsh. — "It  was  all  a  mistake  of  the  watchman, 
your  honour.  Mrs.  Titmarsh  was  speaking  to  me  about  some 
domestic  matter; — she  has  a  habit  of  sometimes  speaking 
rather  loud ;  so  the  watchman,  thinking  we  were  disputing,  or 
doing  something  worse,  arrested  us." 

Mrs.  Titmarsh. — "  O,  this  is  all  very  fine,  Tit — very  !  I 
speak  rather  loud  sometimes — do  I  ?  and  of  course  you  never 
give  me  occasion — not  you ! — harassed  to  death  as  I  am, 
taking  care  of  my  eldest  child  anil  my  two  twins !" 

Mr.  Titmarsh.—"  I  never " 

Mrs.  Titmarsh. — "  O,  don't  talk  to  me,  Tit !  I  can't  bear 
your  duplicity.  'You  never."  to  be  sure  you  never.  You 
never  pretend  to  go  to  the  temperance  meeting,  and  instead  of 
going  there  spend  the  night  at  the  '  Bunch  of  Grapes'  with 
your  old  pot  companions,  while  me  and  my  poor  twins  and 
eldest  child  sit  lonely  and  desolate  at  home.  You  never " 

Mr.  Titmarsh.—"  Mrs.  T.,  this  is  no  place " 

Mrs.  Titmarsh. — O,  of  course !  it's  no  place — any  place  is 
no  place  for  me  to  open  my  mouth  and  let  the  public  know 
the  way  a  poor,  heart-broken  woman,  as  I  am,  with  my  eldest 
child  and  two  twins,  is  treated  by  you.  It  is  no  place,  I  sup 
pose,  to  tell  how,  when  you  said  you  were  at  mother's  the 
other  night,  you  were  at  the  Amphitheatre ;  but  what  did  you 
care  if  little  Tommy  died  of  the  whooping-cough  ? — you 
wouldn't  go  to  mother's  for  the  cure — you'd  rather  go  to  see 
Madame  Arraline  dance  the  catchouca — of  course  you  would ; 
and  you'd  rather  go  to  the  lake  to  eat  a  soft-shell  crab  supper 
than  take  a  comfortable  cup  of  tea  at  home  with  your  poor, 
heart-broken  wife,  her  eldest  boy  aud  two  twins.  Yes,  I  was 
speaking  loud,  antf  I  will  speak  loud,  and  I  will " 

Recorder. — "  That  will  do,  madam,  you  may  go,  and  so 
may  Mr.  Titmarsh." 

The  fact  was,  that  while  the  batteries  of  Mrs.  Titmarsh's 
volubility  were  levelled  at  poor  "  Tit,"  as  she  delighted  to 
call  him,  the  Recorder  saw  a  neighbour  of  theirs  in  court,  from 
whom  he  learned  that  the  disturbance  of  the  peace  spoken  of 


THE  SHAKSPEARIAN  BOOT  BLACK.  37 


/ 


by  the  watchman,  and  for  which  they  were  arrested,  was 
nothing  more  than  one  of  her  usual  lectures  spoken  before  the 
curtain,  instead  of  beneath  it. 


THE  SHAKSPEARIAN  BOOT  BLACK. 

THERE  is  in  one  of  our  principal  city  hotels,  a  member  of 
the  masculine  gender  and  genus  Afric,  who  is  a  decided  char 
acter,  standing  out  in  bold  relief  from  those  of  his  colour  and 
kind,  like  a  figure-head  from  the  prow  of  a  war  frigate.  He 
is  of  great  muscular  powers  and  athletic  proportions,  resem 
bling,  when  he  throws  himself  into  one  of  his  fancy  attitudes, 
a  bronzed  statue  of  Hercules.  He  is  a  fellow  of  "  infinite 
jest — of  most  excellent  fancy,"  and  quite  an  amateur  in  all 
that  relates  to  theatricals.  His  voice  is  deep  and  sonorous  as 
a  diseased  kettledrum,  and  tragedy  is  therefore  his  forte.  He 
is  eternally  spouting  Shakspeare,  and  he  so  humorously  inter- 
lardes  his  replies  to  the  questions  propounded  to  him  by  his 
master's  guests,  that  he  is  a  perfect  dyspepsia-dispeller,  or 
laughter-provoking  machine. 

Here  follows  a  dialogue  which  he  held  yesterday  morning 
with  one  of  the  boarders. 

About  five  o'clock  A.  M.  the  bell  of  No.  40  is  vehemently 
rang,  and  immediately  Ca3sar  is  to  be  seen  hastening  along  the 
corridor,  with  a  brow  as  pregnant  of  deep  intent  as  that  which 
Macbeth  wears  when  he  crosses  the  stage  to  murder  Duncan 
in  his  chamber.  He  enters  the  room  and  places  himself  in  a 
deferential  position  to  receive  the  orders  of  No.  40,  who,  by 
the  way  is  a  perfect  exquisite. 

No.  40.W  Aw  !  Cesaw,  is  that  you  ?" 

C<zsar,  (in  a  treble  base  tone  of  voice.) — "  It  is  I,my  lord  !" 
But  at  once  assuming  his  natural  dialect — u  Doesn't  you  want 
nuffin,  massa  ?" 

JVo.  40.—"  Cesaw,  what  o'clock  is  it  ?" 

Ccesar. — 

"  '  My  lord,  the  early  village  cock, 
Hath  twice  done  salutation  to  the  morn.'  " 

The  negro  again  breaks  out  on   him — "  Fac,  sir,  it's  consider 
able  late  ;  missus  is  from  the  market  long  time  ago." 

JVb.  40. — u  Cesaw !  you  aw  a  confounded  boaw — let  me 
have  the  mawnin'  paper,  fellow." 


38  PICKINGS    FROM    THE    "PICAYUNE." 

Casar. — u  Sartin,  massa  ;  here's  de  Picayune — dat's  got 
de  news  ob  to-morrow  in  it — yaw !  yaw  !" 

Here  No.  40  looked  interjections  at  Caesar,  and  the  latter 
fell  back  on  his  Shaksperian  lore.  He  continued,  handing  him 
the  paper — 

"  '  Read  over  this, 

And  after  this  ;  and  then  to  breakfast, 
With  what  appetite  you  have.'  " 

No.  40  eagerly  surveys  the  columns  of  the  paper  in  pro 
found  silence,  and  in  vain  seeks  in  it  for  u  Lines  to  Eliza," 
which  he  contributed,  but  whose  merit  the  editor  had  not  the 
good  sense  to  appreciate,  and  therefore  consigned  it  to  the 
"  barrel."  He  throws  the  paper  down  and  involuntarily  ex 
claims — u  The  die  is  cast — my  fate  is  fixed !" 

Caesar,  equally  unconscious  of  No.  40's  presence,  solilo 
quizes — 

"  '  There's  something  in  his  soul, 
O'er  which  his  melancholy  sits  on  brood: 
And  I  do  doubt,  the  hatch,  and  the  disclose 
Will  be  some  danger.'  " 

But  the  sable  ranter  becoming  himself  again  adds — "  Look  hea, 
massa,  'clar  God,  I  believes  you's  'fected  wid  what  white  folks 
calls  de  tender  passions  :  you  had  better  take  sarsaparilla,  or 
go  ober  de  lake,  right  off." 

Here  the  mellifluous  voice  of  Biddy,  the  Hibernian  house 
maid,  was  heard  kicking  up  a  fuss  generally  on  the  stairs. — 
"Cayser!  Cayser!"  cried  Biddy,  "  O,  musha  the  divil  burn 
you,  you  thirty-first  cousin  of  owld  Nick,  yourself  and  your 
sheepskin  wig;  if  you  haven't  the  pride  and  assurance  of  Tom 
Donahoe's  meel  cow,  that  would'nt  give  milk  till  they  put  a 
pair  of  false  horns  on  her,  to  be  givin  your  shanakas  to  a  gin- 
tleman  in  his  room  at  this  hour  of  the  morning,  instead  of 
claynin  the  boots,  Cayser !" 

CasaT)  (in  a  dignified  and  tragic  tone.) — 

' '  '  Who  is  it  that  calls  on  me  ? 

I  hear  a  tongue  shriller  than  all  the  music 

Cry  Caesar ;  speak !  speak !    Caesar  is  turned  to  hear.'  " 

Biddy. — "  O,  you  japanned  taypot  that's  for  iver  spoutin; 
come  down  and  mind  your  wurk." 

No.  40,  who  during  this  bit  of  by-play  between  Caesar  and 
Biddy,  was  wrapt  up  in  his  own  reflections— rwhether  he  was 
thinking  of  his  "  Lines  to  Eliza,"  of  Eliza  herself,  or  of  a 
morning  beverage  in  the  shape  of  a  julep,  is  a  mystery  which 


TOWERS    IN    TROUBLE.  39 

is  left  for  the  development  of  after  time ;  but  certain  it  Is  that 
he  said  to  Cagsar — "  Fellow,  go  and  quickly  convey  hither  a 
julep  avvometic  as  the  breath  of  morn." 

w  Ize  de  chil'  to  do  dat,  massa,  in  double  shuffle  time,"  said 
Caesar,  and  closing  the  door,  he  proceeded  to  execute  the  or 
der  ;  but  conceiving  that  No.  40,  instead  of  labouring  under  a 
Platonic  affection,  as  he  first  imagined,  was  slightly  affected 
with  the  man  with  the  poker  from  the  previous  night's  debauch, 
he  audibly  uttered,  a  la  Forrest,  as  he  went  down— 

" What  a  thrice  double  ass 

Was  I,  to  take  this  drunkard  for  a  lord  in  love, 
And  worship  this  dull  fool." 

"  He  aint  got  no  music  in  his  soul,  and  blam'  me  if  I  don't 
believe  he  aint  got  no  money  in  his  pus." 

What  passed  between  No.  40  and  Cassar  when  the  latter  re 
turned  with  the  julep,  is  noted  down  for  another  chapter. 


TOWERS  IN  TROUBLE. 

THE  business  of  Recorder  Baldwin's  court  would  have  passed 
off  yesterday  without  any  thing  having  occurred,  beyond  the. 
usual  monotonous  routine  of  "  found  drunk,"  "  could  give  no 
account  of  himself,"  "  disturbing  the  peace,"  "  dangerous  and 
suspicious,"  had  not  Mrs.  Julia  Smith  made  her  appearance 
before  the  bench,  and  had  she  not  been  immediately  followed 
by  Mr.  Thomas  Towers.  Mrs.  S.  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of 
faded  black  calico,  and  wore  a  bonnet  and  veil  to  match.  She 
held  by  either  hand  two  pledges  of  the  mutual  affection  which 
existed  between  herself  and  the  late  Mr.  Smith,  and  occasion 
ally  took  a  pinch  of  rappee  from  a  circular  snuffbox.  Mr. 
Towers  sported  a  seedy  snuff-coloured  frock,  a  gray,  low  bea 
ver,  with  a  large  black  riband  round  it,  and  chamois  gloves, 
which,  from  long  use,  had  assumed  a  black  polish.  His  two 
cheekbones  formed  two  promontories  in  his  face,  and  the 
ravages  of  the  toothache  left  an  indention  in  each  of  his  jaws 
which  resembled  the  interior  of  egg-cups.  "  My  dear  Mrs.  S." 
said  Mr.  Towers,  "  we  can  settle  this  matter  in  an  amicable 
way,  without  making  the  thing  public,  and  having  our  names 
in  the  papers  :  do  listen  to  advice." 

"  I'll  do  no  such  a  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Julia  Smith,  in  a  voice 
something  like  Old  Corn  Meal's  falsetto— "  I'll  do  no  such  a 


40  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

thing ;  I'll  let  you  see  that  you  are  not  to  abuse  the  children 
of  my  late,  poor,  dear  man,  Mr.  Smith ;"  and  the  name  of  her 
"  late,  poor,  dear  man"  seemed  to  conjure  up 


" departed  joys 

Departed  never  to  return  »" 

for  she  buried  her  face  in  her  pocket  handkerchief  and  sobbed 
most  audibly. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  this  woman  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  O  !  I'm  a  poor  lone  widder,  your  honour,"  said  Mrs.  Smith, 
"  and  these  are  my  horphans." 

"  Well,  and  what  of  that  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Why,  that  this  here  man,  Mr.  Towers,  has  abused — ac 
tually  struck  the  little  dears,  and  gave  me  sas  when  I  spoke 
to  him  about  it." 

"  I  pledge  my  honour  to  your  honour,"  said  Mr.  Towers, 
placing  his  right  hand  over  his  left  vest  pocket — "  I  pledge 
you  my  honour,  I  have  done  no  such  thing;  I  merely  took  my 
specks  from  Tommy  here,  which  he  was  tying  round  the 
head  of  the  cat,  lest  he  should  break  them." 

"  Yeth  you  did,"  said  the  younger  scion  of  the  defunct  Mr. 
Smith — «  yeth  you  did ;  and  you  pulled  my  ear  thoo." 

"Never  mind,  Tommy  my  dear,  never  mind,"  said  Mrs.  S., 
imparting  the  kiss  of  parental  affection  on  the  pouting  lips  <^f 
the  miniature  likeness  of  her  late  husband — "the  Recorder 
will  do  us  justice,  Tommy." 

"  What  is  your  complaint,  madam  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Why  Lor'  love  your  honour,  assault  and  battery,  to  be 
sure !"  said  Mrs.  S. 

"  State  the  nature  of  it,"  said  the  Recorder. 

Mrs.  Smith. — "  Why,  as  I  was  telling  you," — (she  takes  a 
pinch  of  snuff.) 

"  You  have  told  me  nothing  yet,"  said  the  Recorder. 

The  Recorder  consented  that  Mr.  Towers  should  open  the 
case. 

Here  Mr.  Towers  adjusted  the  specks  upon  his  thin  nose, 
and  begged  the  Recorder  to  listen  to  him  and  he  would  come 
to  the  point  at  once. 

"  Well  then,  sir,"  said  Mr.  T., « the  naked  facts  are  these—" 

"  O,  did  you  ever !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Julia  Smith,  when  she 
heard  Mr.  Towers  use  the  phrase  naked  facts. 

"  The  truth  of  the  matter  I  say,  sir,  is  this,"  continued  Mr. 
Towers,  "  I  am  not  long  a  resident  in  this  city  :  I  was  looking 


LAYING    GHOSTS    AND    RAISING    SPIRITS.  41 

out  for  a  retired  room  :  seeing  a  label  on  this  lady's  door,  of  a 
'furnished  room  to  let;'  I  asked  her  if  I  could  live  secluded, 
were  I  to  become  her  tenant.  She  answered  '  yes  :'  said  she 
was  a  poor  lone  woman  and  saw  no  company.  1  at  once  said 
to  myself, 

* if  there's  peace  to  be  found  in  the  world, 

A  man  that  loves  quietness  should  hope  for  it  here.1 

But  how  have  I  been  disappointed !  Instead  of  silence,  there's 
an  eternal  uproar;  this  dear  delightfully  dirty  little  Tommy 
here,  broke  the  crystal  of  my  watch,  this  morning ;  that  other 
youth  Bill,  Bill  Smith,  was  cutting  the  initials  of  his  name  on 
the  doorpost  with  my  best  razor  on  Monday,  and  he  has 
torn  up  some  of  my  most  valuable  manuscripts  to  make  paper 
kites." 

"You  hear  this,  Mrs.  Smith  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  O,  lor'-a-mercy !"  says  Mrs.  Julia  Smith,  "  Bill  nor  Tom 
my  never  did  nothing  to  no  one." 

The  Recorder  advised  Mr.  Towers  to  seek  out  some  more 
comfortable  quarters — told  Mrs.  S.  that  Mr.  T.  had  done  noth 
ing  which  would  subject  him  to  criminal  prosecution,  and 
discharged  the  case. 


LAYING  GHOSTS  AND  RAISING  SPIRITS. 

ON  the  name  of  Rory  Regan  being  called  out  yesterday  by 
the  Recorder's  clerk,  one  of  "the  finest  peasantry" — and  no 
bad  sample  of  prowess  and  potatoes  either — stood  erect  before 
the  Recorder.  His  attitude  was  not  stiff,  like  that  of  a  soldier 
at  drill ;  there  was  a  kind  of  classical  ease  about  it.  His  right 
foot  firmly  under  him,  his  left  was  somewhat  extended  out 
to  an  angle,  and  his  arms  were  locked  over  his  breast.  He 
would  occasionally  run  his  -right  hand  over  his  beard,  or  with 
it  smooth  down  the  hair  over  his  forehead.  While  the  Re 
corder  was  looking  out  for  the  charge  made  against  him,  Rory 
gave  a  knowing  wink  of  the  eye  at  a  couple  of  acquaintances 
who  were  in  court,  as  much  as  to  say — "  Now,  boys,  won't 
we  have  fun !" 

"  You  are  charged,  Rory  Regan,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  by 
Mrs.  Malone,  with  disturbing  the  peace  of  her  house ;  besides, 
she  fears,  she  says,  personal  violence  from  you." 

Rory.-  "What !  me  disturb  the  pace  of  her  house  f — me 


42  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

offer  her  personal  violence !  Oh,  Recordher,  jewel !  there 
must  be  a  mistake  in  this — it  can't  be  me  ;  Mrs.  Malone  must 
mane  some  other  ill-behaved  blackguard.  Sure  she  wouldn't 
have  the  conscience  to  make  sich  a  charge  against  her  own 
Rory,  who'd  knock  saucepans  out  of  any  spalpeen  that  'ud 
say  black  is  the  white  of  her  eye.  It's  all  a  mistake,  sur." 

Recorder. — "  We  well  let  the  lady  speak  for  herself.  Mrs. 
Malone !  Officer,  call  Bridget  Malone." 

The  officer  obeyed  his  instructions,  and  Mrs.  Malone— 
fat,  fair  and  forty,  dressed  in  a  semi-mourning  suit — stepped 
forward. 

Recorder. — "  State,  madam,  on  what  you  base  your  charge, 
or  rather  your  charges,  for  you  make  two  of  them." 

Mrs.  Malone^  (speaking  in  a  pathetic  tone  ) — u  Oh,  yer 
honour,  I'm  a  poor,  lone  widder,  wid  six  childher,  and  Michael 
two  years  dead.  He  was  the  quietest  husband  ye  iver  laid  yer 
two  fine-lookin'  eyes  on,  and "  (Weeps.) 

Recorder. — "  I  have  not  a  doubt,  madam,  of  the  many  esti 
mable  qualities  of  your  deceased  husband  ;  but  upon  what 
ground  do  you  found  your  charges  against  Mr.  Regan,  I  ask 
again !" 

Rory. — "  Oh,  sorra  a  ha'porth  at  all,  I'll  engage,  yer  honour. 
Mrs.  Malone  is  the  best  nathured  woman  in  the  world ;  but 
there's  times  whin  she's  hard  to  handle,  as  we  say.  Don't 
cry,  Bridget  darlin' ;  ye  know  what  happened  last  night  was 
done  out  of  a  bit  of  divarsion — divil  a  more." 

Recorder. — "Silence,  sir;  let  the  woman  state  her  charge." 

Mrs.  Malone. — fc'  O  thin,  yer  honour,  it's  I  that  has  the 
weighty  charge  of  six  small  childher,  and  little  Terry,  that's 
the  image  of  his  own  father,  rest  his  sowl,  is  down  wid  the 
smallpox,  and " 

Recorder. — "  1  tell  you  again,  madam,  I  want  to  know  why 
it  is  you  have  made  these  charges  against  Mr.  Regan.  State 
them  at  once,  or  I  shall  dismiss  this  case." 

Mrs.  Malone. — "  Oh,  Rory  is  a  desaver,  yer  honour ;  and 
it  ill  becomes  him  to  thrifle  wid  the  affections  of  a  poor,  lone 
woman  bavin'  six  small  childher,  and  one  of  thim  down  in 
the  smallpox.  Ye " 

Recorder. — "  Are  we  never  to  hear  the  last  of  those  six 
small  children  ?  Go  on  with  the  charge  madam." 

Mrs.  Malone. — "Well,  yer  honour,  I  was  tellin'  Rory, 
some  time  ago,  that  I  was  dhramin'  I  saw  Mick,  God  rest -his 
sowl !  the  night  afore,  us  riathural  as  life^  but  tbMt  he  looked 


LAYING  GHOSTS  AND  RAISING  SPIRITS.  43 

mighty  crass  entirely.  '  Bridget,'  sis  Rory  to  me — sis  he, 
4  it  wasn't  dhramin'  ye  wor,  at  all;  it  was  Mick's  ghost  ye 
saw.  That  was  the  very  way  Ned  Shaughnessy  appeared  to 
Nelly,  afther  he  was  kilt  at  the  fair  be  the  Coughlans,  and 
only  the  priest  laid  him  heM  be  appearin'  to  her  ivery  night 
sence.'  c  Oh,  millia  murther !'  sis  T, '  is  it  possible  that  Mick's 
sowl  isn't  at  rest  ?'  k  How  could  it  ?'  sis  he  to  me — c  how 
could  it,  whin  there's  no  one  to  take  care  of  yerself  and  his 
six  childher  ?  How  could  any  dacint  man's  ghost  rest  asy 
undher  the  sarcumstances  ?  It  'ud  be  a  mighty  inane  ghost 
that  would,'  sis  he " 

Recorder. — "Mrs.  Malone,  you  have  not  said  a  single  word 
yet  pertinent  to  the  charge." 

Rory. — "  O  give  her  her  own  way,  yer  honour  ;  if  ye  crass 
her  at  all  she's  as  stubborn  as  Bill  Buckley's  pig ;  and  if  ye 
wanted  to  dhrive  Bill's  pig  to  Moate,  ye  should  purtind  that 
ye  wanted  to  take  her  to  Ballycumber.  She  wouldn't  put  one 
fut  afore  t'other  for  ye,  unless  ye  did.  Besides, " 

Recorder. — u  Silence,  sir !  Now,  madam,  (to  Mrs.  Malone) 
tell  me  at  once  why  it  is  that  you  have  charged  this  man  with 
disturbing  the  peace  of  your  house,  and  with  being  in  fear  of 
personal  violence  from  him." 

Rory,  (in  a  whisper  to  Mrs.  Malone.) — "Honour  bright, 
Bridget  darlin' !  Ye  know  I  laid  Mick's  ghost,  and  I'd  lay 
any  fellow  as  flat  as  a  pancake  that  dar  say  trap-sticks  to  ye. 
— Ye  know  I  had  a  sup  in  last  night,  and  didn't  know  what 
1  was  sayin.' — I'll  take  the  pledge  to-day,  and  I'll  make  an 
honest  woman  o'  ye  this  day  week,  as  sure  as  me  name's  Rory 
Regan." 

Recorder. — "  Proceed,  madam." 

Mrs.  Malone. — "  I  b'lieve  I'll  not  go  any  farther,  yer  hon 
our.  There's  no  betther  nathured  boy  than  Rory  whin  he's 
sober.  He  promises  me  that  he'll  take  the  pledge,  and — 
(holding  down  her  head) — that  he'll  take  care  of  meself  and 
the  childher.  Sure  only  for  him  I'll  be  frightened  out  o'  me 
life  by  poor  Mick's  ghost !" 

Recorder. — "  Rory,  are  you  prepared  to  enter  into  recog 
nisances  to  do  all  this  ?" 

Rory. — "  I'll  sign  a  bond,  in  the  presince  of  the   clargy, 

that  on  this  day  week,  the  widow  Malone  will  be  Mrs.  Rory 

Regan,  and  that  she  will  niver  more  have  to  fear  ould  Mick's 

ghost." 

-  The  Recorder  dismissed  the  case,  and  Mrs.  Malone  left  the 


44  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

court  in  company  with  Rory,  who,  as  he  left  the  room,  winked 
over  her  shoulder  at  the  officer  who  arrested  him,  saying — 
"  Naubaucklish  I  there's  no  fear  of  Rory  Regan  while  he  can 
lay  ghosts  and  make  a  raise  of  sperrits  !"  which  latter,  in  Rory's 
vocabulary,  meant  whiskey  punch. 


A  SCIENTIFIC  SUBJECT. 

"JONATHAN  SLIMTAX,"  said  Recorder  Baldwin  yesterday 
morning,  as  soon  as  he  had  taken  his  place  on  the  bench,  with 
the  watch  returns  for  the  night  in  his  hand.  "  Jonathan  Slim- 
tax  !"  Presently  an  individual  in  the  prisoners'  box  rose  on 
his  legs.  His  face  was  what  physiognomists  would  call  "  pecu 
liar,"  and  his  tout  ensemble  was  what  painters  would  call  sin 
gular.  His  hair  was  grisly,  his  eyes  were  as  muddy  as  a  pane 
of  glass  after  a  weighty  shower,  his  face  was  of  a  wheyish 
colour,  his  nose  was  like  a  string  bow,  and  his  teeth  were  every 
colour,  like  a  painter's  specimen  of  imitation  marble.  He 
wore  a  bazine  coat,  with  his  arms  out  at  the  elbows;  and  his 
trousers,  with  a  loud  voice,  bespoke  an  acquaintance  with  the 
washerwoman. 

"  Jonathan  Slimtax,"  said  the  Recorder,  a  second*  time. 

"  Sir,  it  is  my  humiliating  fate  to  stand  before  your  honour,'1 
said  Jonathan,  making  that  kind  of  bow-'to  the  bench, 
which  'peculiar  circumstances,'  more  than  an  innate  feeling 
of  courtesy,  draws  forth. 

(We  now,  for  the  first  time,  perceived  large  bundles  of 
manuscripts,  tied  round  with  dirty  red  tape,  protruding  from 
Jonathan's  coat  pockets.) 

"Mr.  Slimtax,"  said  the  Recorder,  "you  were  arrested  at  a 
very  late  hour  last  night  in  Baronne  street,  and  when  the 
watchman  spoke  to  you,  you  were  abusive  t<5  him." 

"The  watchman,  sir,"  said  Jonathan,  "transcended  his  duty 
when  he  broke  in  upon  my  studies ;  one  five  minutes  more, 
sir,  had  he  not  intruded,  and  my  new,  grand  solar  system  was 
complete  •  Sir,  I  would  have  had  Mars,  Jupiter,  Minerva,  and  the 
whc'^  heavenly  bodies,  even  Saturn,  sir,  with  all  his  assemblage 
of  rings  and  moons,  I  should  have  had  within  the  grasp  of 
my  new  and  comprehensive  theory,  had  he  not  intruded." 

"  Mr.  Slimtax,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  if  it  is  a  part  of  your 
eystem  to  be  out  at  an  unseasonable  hour  of  the  night,  and 


A  SCIENTIFIC   SUBJECT.  45 

giving  offence  to  the  watchmen  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty, 
the  police  laws  of  the  Second  Municipality  do  not  tolerate  such 
conduct." 

"Glad  you  spoke  of  laws,"  said  Jonathan  Slimtax,  "I  shall 
now  trouble  the  court  to  read  my  essay  on  constitutional  law," 
and  here  he  poked  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a 
whole  file  of  his  manuscript  papers ;  "  beg  the  court's  pardon, 
one  moment,"  he  said,  while  turning  them  over,  and  at  length  , 
he  pulled  one  out,  folded  in  oblong  form,  and  endorsed  '  An 
Essay  on  Constitutional  Law,  embracing  the  science  as  ex 
pounded  by  the  Medes  and  Persians,  the  Greeks  and  the  Ro 
mans,  the  Spanish  law,  the  English  law,  the  Code  Justinian, 
the  Code  Napoleon,  and  Civil  Code  of  Louisiana,  with  notes, 
by  the  learned  Counsellor  Nokes.' 

"  There,  sir,"  he  said,  handing  the  document  to  one  of  the 
officers  for  the  inspection  of  the  court ;  u  let  the  court  look  at 
that;  let  him  ponder  over  it;  let  him  weigh  well  the  princi 
ples  and  the  maxims,  and  the  axioms  it  embodies,  and  let  him 
decide  whether  or  not  I  am  an  ill  used  man  ;  whether  or  not 
the  world  is  not  my  debtor ;  whether  or  not  I  am  a  living 
instance  of  neglected  genius  !" 

The  Recorder  said  he  had  no  doubt  but  that  the  prisoner's 
essay  was  all  which  its  author  represented  it  to  be,  but  he  had 
not  time  just  then  to  examine  its  merits  ;  he  was  placed,  he  said, 
by  his  fellow  citizens  on  the  bench  not  to  criticise  nor  analize 
essays  written  on  criminal  or  civil  law,  but  to  pass  that  judgment 
which  he  thought  most  meet  on  such  members  of  society  as 
transgressed  existing  laws,  and  came  within  his  jurisprudence. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  Jonathan  Slimtax, "  I  see  most  distinctly 
your  position  ;  'tis  a  plain  and  straight  forward  one  ;  but,  sir, 
when  you  come  to  speak  of  society  you  touch  directly  on  my 
system — you  light,  sir,  at  once,  as  it  were,  on  my  new  work 
for  the  regulation  of  man,  the  elevation  of  woman,  and  the 
reorganization  of  society  :  here  it  is,  sir,  here  it  is,  just  read  it 
over,  and  give  me  your  opinion  of  it  while  I  remain  here." 

The  document  which  he  presented  for  the  purusal  of  the 
Recorder,  numbered  some  five  hundred  pages,  and  his  honour 
very  properly  declined  so  Herculean  a  task. 

Seeing  that  the  prisoner  was  an  enthusiast,  he  told  him  he 
would  let  him  go,  but  cautioned  him  against  ever  being  caught 
out  so  late  at  night  again. 

Jonathan  promised  his  honour  he  never  would,  unless  when 
testing  the  truth  of  his  "  new  grand  solar  system." 


46  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 


A  SKETCH  "OWER  TRUE," 

HAVING    A    HOOSIER    FOR    ITS    HERO. 

AN  original  character  is  your  genuine  hoosier.  By  genuine 
we  mean  such  an  one  as  has  all  the  attributes  that  peculiarly 
belong  to  the  back  woodsmen  of  the  west — one  whose  man 
ners  have  suffered  neither  change  nor  modification  by  connex 
ion  or  association  with  men  of  more  conventional  habits;  one, 
in  a  word,  who,  like  the  trees  of  his  native  forest,  had  no  other 
culture  than  that  bestowed  on  him  by  nature.  He  may  well 
be  called  a  genuine  hoosier.  There  is  an  originality  in  his 
phraseology,  which,  being  the  imitation  of  no  other  known 
idiom,  by  none  can  it  be  successfully  imitated ;  and  there  is  a 
primitive  freshness  in  his  manner  and  appearance,  which  show 
that  while  the  fetters  of  fashion  and  etiquette  enchain  their 
millions  among  what  is  called  the  "  enlightened  classes,"  he, 
disdaining  all  such  artificial  incumbrances  of  both  limb  and 
language,  dresses  as  he  willeth,  and  talks  as  he  pleaseth. 
Indeed,  with  the  future  antiquarian,  it  must  be  a  matter  of 
mystery,  to  account  for  the  noble  stand  taken  by  the  hoosier 
against  the  effeminate  frivolity  of  our  times,  when  almost  all 
of  those  who  pique  themselves  on  being  more  refined  than 
their  fellows,  are  the  victims  of  its  enervating  embraces. 

So  much  for  the  hoosier  in  general,  and  now  for  the  hoosier 
in  particular.  One  of  them — a  fellow  with  thews  and  sinews 
sufficiently  strong  to  cope  with  a  bear — visited  the  city  last 
week,  and  here  he  still  remains.  As  he  is  no  bad  specimen  of 
the  class,  we  mean  to  chronicle,  in  part,  his  sayings  and  doings. 
But  first  of  his  appearance,  as  he  jumped  from  his  flatboat  on 
to  the  Levee,  when,  by  the  way,  he  was  heard  to  remark  that 
he  "  didn't  see  the  reason  of  folks  livin*1  in  a  heap  this  way, 
where  they  grew  no  corn  and  had  no  bars  to  kill." 

He  wore  a  clay-coloured  linsey  coat  and  pants,  neither  of 
which  were  cut  on  the  new  system,  or  geometrical  principles. 
The  woollen  hat  of  opaque  crown  had  been  originally  a  muddy 
white,  but  from  exposure  to  the  sun  it  had  become  a  clay-colour 
too ;  his  brogans  were  of  a  uniform  colour — so  was  his  beard — 


A  SKETCH  UOWER  TRUE."  '    47 


and  so  was  his  hair.  Though  not  the  "embodiment,"  perhaps, 
of  "Clay  principles,"  he  was  certainly  the  embodiment  of 
clay  colouring. 

After  being  in  the  city  some  dayf;  after,  in  looking  for  the 
"lions,"  having  seen  the  "elephant,"  and  after  his  funds  had 
become  nearly  exhausted — or  "  whittled  down  to  the  small  end 
of  nothing,"  as  he  himself  classically  expressed  it — he  thought 
he'd  look  out  for  a  job  to  recruit  his  wasted  finances.  With 
this  view  he  was  directed  to  an  extensive  contractor,  and  we 
might  add,  as  extensive  an  expander ;  for  he  has  men  in  almost 
all  parts  of  the  city,  repairing  the  older  streets,  re-paving 
and  expanding  the  newer  ones.  He  met  this  Mc-Adam  of  the 
Western  world  on  Sunday  last,  standing  near  the  entrance  to 
the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  or  to  use  his  own  words,  "he  dropped 
on  him  like  a  catamount  on  a  coon."  Of  course  the  tedious 
formula  of  an  introduction  was  dispensed  with,  and  ou 
western  hero  bounded  at  once  to  matters  of  business. 

He  commenced — "  How  are  you,  Squire — how  d'ye  rise  ?" 

Contractor. — "  I  am  well,  sir.  Whom  have  I  the  pleasure 
of  addressing?" 

Hoosier. — "Why,  Squire,  my  name's  Ruth — Ben  Ruth  ;  but 
you  know,  as  I  heard  the  player  fello\v  say  in  Louisville, 
'there  aint  nothin'  in  a  name.'  Now  you  be  a  tolerable  slick 
lookin'  feller  yourself,  but  I'd  have  jest  as  great  a  respect 
for  you  if  your  name  was  Smith — John  Smith.  Names  aint 
nothin',  no  how." 

Contractor. — "  Your  liberality  does  you  great  credit.  But 
can  I  do  any  thing  for  you  ?" 

Hoosier. — "  I  reckon.  You  see,  the  fact  is,  Squire,  they 
had  an  aZ-mighty  deal  to  say  up  in  our  parts  about  Orleans, 
and  how  a//-fired  easy  it  is  to  make  money  in  it,  but  it's  no 
lham'  and  all  'hominy,'  I  reckon.  But  now,  to  skin  the  bar 
at  once,  can  you  give  me  and  five  other  gentlemen  employ 
ment  ?" 

Contractor. — "  If  you  and  five  other  gentlemen  will  work 
at  the  labour  which  I  am  having  done,  and  for  the  wages 
which  I  pay,  five  other  gentlemen  and  you  may  go  to  work 
to-morrow." 

Hoosier. — "Good  as  pork,  Squire — what  do  you  give  ?" 

Contractor. — '•'  Ten  bitts  a  day." 

Hoosier. — "  Why,  Squire,  I  was  told  you'd  give  us  two 
dollar^  a  day  and  eat  %.<?." 


48  PICKINGS  PROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

Contractor. — "  Two  dollars  a  day  and  eat  you !  Why, 
zounds  man,  do  you  take  me  tor  a  cannibal  ?  Eat  you !" 

Hoosier. — "  Oh,  hold  your  hosses,  Squire.  There's  no  use 
gettin'  riled,  no  how.  1  yeant  that  J  heerd  you'd  give  us  two 
dollars  a  day  and  throw  in  the  '  chicken  fixins'  and  '  corn 
doins.'  But  you  can't  give  it,  you  say?" 

Contractor. — "  No,  s?V." 

Hoosier. — "  Well,  as  I  aint  flush  in  the  financial  way,  I  ac 
cept.  Let  there  be  no  mussing  between  us." 

The  Hoosier  then  learned  from  the  contractor  where  his 
office  was,  and  at  what  hour  he  would  be  there  next  morning; 
and  there  he  was  before  the  appointed  time.  Now  it  happens 
that  the  bed-room  of  the  contractor  is  immediately  over  his 
office.  He  was  yet  in  bed.  and  indeed  asleep,  when  the  hoo- 
sier  reached  there,  for  it  was  not  well  five  o'clock ;  but  he 
wa.s  soon  awoke  by  a  very  loud,  if  not  a  very  musical  matin 
effort  of  his  western  employe,  singing: 

"  Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  the  country's  risin' 
For  Henry  Clay  and  Frelinghuysen  !" 

"  Let  the  country  rise  and  be  d !"  said  the  contractor, 

in  a  loud  and  petulant  manner.  "Who  is  that  making  such  a 
confounded  noise  there  ?" 

Hoosier. — "  A  good  mornin',  Squire.  Why,  what  on  airth 
keeps  you  in  bed  so  long?  Jt's  a  right  nice  mornin' to  be 
about,  I  tell  you — a  fust  rate  mornin'  to  go  on  a  hunt." 

Contractor. — UO  you  be  shot!  Are  you  prepared  to  go  to 
work?" 

Hoosier. — "  I'm  just  awaitin'  the  worfl,  as  Sal  Cummins 
said  when  she  was  asked  why  she  didn't  marry.  You  didn't 
know  Sal,  Squire — did  you  ?  She  was  an  uncommon  nasty- 
lookin'  gal,  and " 

Contractor. — "  O  ]  have  not  time  to  hear  her  history.  Have 
you  a  shovel  ?" 

Hoosier.-^-"  No." 

Contractor. — "  Then  you  can't  go  to  work." 

Hoosier. — "But  s'pose  1  buy  one.  What  will  it  cost, 
Squire  ?" 

Contractor. — «  Ten  bitts." 

Hoosier. — "  Ten  bitts  ! — why  that's  a  day,  Squire — ten  bitts 
— tnree  hundred  and  sixty-five  days — fifteen  years — why, 
Squire,  I  think  I  ain't  worth  more  than  five  thousand  shovels 
at  that  kalk'lation." 


;  How  are  you,  Squire-how  d'ye  rise  I—Page  47. 


A  SKETCH   "OWER  TRUE."  49 

Contractor. — "  I  didn't  send  for  you,  my  friend,  to  study 
Cocker's  arithmetic.  Get  a  shovel  and  go  to  work,  if  you 
will ;  if  not,  go  about  your  business." 

Hoosier. — "  'Nuffsed." 

He  went,  bought  the  shovel,  and  was  shown  the  scene  of 
his  labour,  which  was  to  be  rooting  or  ripping  up  the  old 

paving  stones  in street.  Before  commencing  operations, 

however,  he  went  into  a  merchant's  office  hard  by,  deliberate 
ly  stripped  off  the  coat,  vest  and  pantaloons  he  had  on — 
hung  them  up,  (giving  the  place  the  appearance  of  an  old 
clothes'  shop,)  and  taking  his  working  suit  out  of  his  saddle 
bags,  put  them  on  instead  of  those  taken  off.  The  owner  of  the 
office  came  in,  and,  of  course,  expressed  his  displeasure  that 
such  a  liberty  should  be  taken  by  a  stranger  in  his  office. 
The  hoosier  asked  him  if  he  thought  him  "  darn'd  fool  enough 
to  dirty  his  Sunday-go-to-meetin'  clothes  ?" — said  he  was 
a-goin'  to  take  a  glass  of  ginger-pop,  and  that  if  he'd  jine  him, 
he'd  "  sport  ten  cents  !" 

He  is  now  working  away — mending  our  ways  daily.  He 
complains  that  it  don't  come  natural  to  him.  "The  Irishers," 
he  says,  "  can  beat  him  at  it ;"  but  at  making  a  "  clearance," 
chopping  wood,  or  working  a  flatboat,  he  boasts  that  he  could 
oeat  a  dozen  of  them. 

61 


50  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 


LAP  DOGS  AND  LOBELIA. 

WHEN  we  entered  the  police  office  yesterday  there  seemed 
to  be  nothing  going  on  worthy  of  a  paragraph.  A  few  un 
washed,  miserable  looking  fellows  sat  in  the  dock  waiting  to 
be  disposed  of.  They  seemed  regardless  whether  their  sen 
tence  should  be  thirty  days  or  for  life.  They  felt  as  if  the 
world  Was  a  blank  to  them,  and  as  if  existence  itself  was  but 
a  protracted  punishment. 

One  Yankee  looking  policeman  was  whitling  his  stick  ;  an 
other  was  making  a  rough  draft,  with  his  pencil,  of  a  "  Charley 
on  duty,"  and  two  more  were  discussing  the  pirate  question. 

A  surreptitious  edition  of  a  lawyer,  for  the  want  of  a  more 
lucrative  practice,  was  ransacking  the  Code  of  Practice  for 
something  which  he  seemed  not  to  find,  and  the  Recorder  en 
deavoured  to  look  like  a  man  in  the  midst  of  business,  but  he 
"  couldn't  come  it."  * 

But  a  few  moments  had  elapsed  ere  this  stillness  was  inter 
rupted  by  the  appearance  of  as  odd  looking  a  pair  of  litigants 
as  ever  appeared  before  a  judicial  tribunal.  Their  approach 
was  the  signal  of  an  immediate  change  of  scene  from  grave  to 
gay.  The  crowd  outside  the  bar  joined  in  a  half  suppressed 
laugh  ;  the  constables  cried  "  silence  !"  and  looked  knowingly 
at  one  another;  the  lawyer  looked  learned,  and  began  to  tell 
the  man  next  him,  who  had  been  fined  for  leaving  his  horse 
on  the  sidewalk,  of  several  important  suits  in  which  he  was 
professionally  engaged  in  the  "  courts  above,"  though  we  doubt 
if  he  ever  gets  up  to  them ;  and  his  honour  adjusted  himself 
in  his  chair  and  made  other  demonstrations  indicative  of  the 
approach  of  important  business. 

"  Maria  Matilda  Milden  !"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Here,  sir  !"  said  a  lady. 
,     "  Doctor  Lirandus  Lobelia !"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Here,  sir !"  said  a  gentleman. 

And  the  observed  of  all  observers — the  lady  and  the  gentle 
man — stood  before  him.  The  lady  was — but  no  matter  about 
her  age.  Her  dress  was  faded,  and  so  was  her  face;  her  fore 
head  was  wrinkled,  and  so  was  her  fan  ;  and  we  verily  believe 
that  she  had  no  bustle.  She  held  affectionately  in  her  arms  a 
French  poodle  dog,  that  looked  as  sulkily  as  if  it  had  swal- 


LAP  DOGS  AND  LOBELIA.  51 

lowed  a  poisoned  sausage,  and  she  seemed  to  regard  him  with 
a  species  of  parental  attachment. 

Doctor  Lirandus  Lobelia,  too,  was  a  queer  looking  customer. 
He  was  thin  and  attenuated,  and  looked  as  if  he  had  been  the 
victim  of  his  professional  enthusiasm — as  if,  in  fact,  he  had 
been  steamed  to  death,  attesting  the  merits  of  his  own  system. 
He  wore  specs — no !  he  did  not  wear  them,  but  he  used  them 
— they  were  attached  to  a  horn  case,  which  he  held  in  his 
hand  when  he  placed  the  glasses  to  his  eyes  which  was,  on 
an  average,  about  sixty  times  in  every  hour. 

"  Will  Miss  Milden  come  forward  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 
"  What  charge  have  you  to  make  against  Doctor  Lobelia  ?" 

u  O,  the  monster '"  exclaimed  Maria  Matilda ;  "  See  the 
condition  in  which  he  has  left  my  poor  dear  doggy !" 

And  here  she  cast  a  protective  kind  of  glance  at  the  dying 
quadruped.  Little  Pompey  made  an  effort  to  bark  his  acknowl 
edgments  for  his  mistress'  kindness,  but  failed  in  the  attempt. 

u  Save  your  sympathy  for  some  other  time,"  said  the  Re 
corder,  "  and  state  the  particulars  of  your  complaint." 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Miss  Maria  Matilda  Milden,  "  I  noticed 
that  my  little  pet,  Pompey,  had  been  loosing  his  appetite  for 
several  days  ;  on  Sunday  morning  he  refused  his  tea  and  toast, 
and  on  Monday  he  woul  1  not  eat  a  broiled  kidney,  which  I 
brought  him  from  the  market.  I  gave  him  some  of  Dr.  Still- 
man's  highly  concentrated  compound  of  sarsaparilla  and  pills, 
but  they  did  not  relief  him.  I  then  consulted  Doctor  Lobelia 
here.  I  suggested  phlebotomy,  but  he  applied  the  herbaceous 
process  ;  in  fact,  he  steamed  my  poor  dear  doggy  to  death;" 
and  here  Miss  Milden  applied  her  pocket  handkerchief  to  her 
orbits,  and  gave  utterance  to  the  following  pathetic  stanza : 

"  'Twas  ever  thus,  from  childhood's  hour, 
I've  seen  my  pets  all  fade  away— 
My  poodle  dogs,  my  tabby  cats — 
Victims  to  premature  decay." 

"  Doctor  Lobelia  !"  said  the  Recorder,  "  what  have  you  to 
say  to  this  charge  ?" 

"  f  pledge  my  honour  to  your  honour,"  said  the  disciple  of 
Thompson,  holding  his  horn-case  glasses  to  his  eyes  and  look 
ing  attentively  at  the  Recorder,  Miss  Milden  and  her  poodle 
dog;  "I  pledge  you  my  honour,  I  acted  purely  in  a  profes 
sional  way.  Lady  sent  for  me — asked  my  advice — gave  it— 
cautioned  her  against  resorting  to  phlebotomy  or  sarsaparilla 
— the  former  practice  having  become  obselete  with  the  faculty ; 


62  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  «  PICAYUNE." 

the  latter,  being  a  mere  nostrum,  repudiated  by  the  regular 
practitioner — advised  the  immediate  application  of  my  own 
*  system,'  as  the  only  relief  for  the  interesting  animal — she 
consented — (your  honour  will  bear  in  mind  she  consented) — 
I  then  steamed  him  strong,  administered  bayberry  tea,  cayenne 
capsicum,  lobelia,  pepsinay,  and  No.  2  and  No.  6.  If  his 
system  was  not  previously  too  debilitated,  my  system  \vill 
most  certainly  work  a  radical  cure.  Your  honour  sees  I  have 
prescribed  nothing  that  did  not  come  within  the  legitimate 
sphere  of  my  system." 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  said  the  lawyer  to  whom  we 
referred  as  looking  over  the  Code  of  Practice,  and  who  it  ap 
pears  had  been  retained  by  Miss  Milden — "May  it  please  the 
court,  we  bring  three  separate  and  distinct  charges  against  the 
defendant.  First,  we  charge  him  with  practising  in  contra 
vention  of  the  rules  of  the  Medico-Physico  Society ;  secondly, 
we  charge  him  with  the  loss  of  the  dear  canine  creature ;  and 
thirdly,  we  charge  him  with  cruelty  to  animals. — Your  honour," 
he  added,  "  is  imbued  with  so  much  of  the  finer  feelings  of 
our  nature,  yonr  mind  is  so  surcharged  with  the  milk  of  human 
kindness,  that  it  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation  on  my  part 
were  I  to  dwell  on  the  loss  which  my  client  sustains  in  being 
forever  deprived  of  the  society  of  her  favourite  dog.  He  was 
her  ever-faithful  companion  ;  and  when  friends  forsook  her — 
when  kindred  grew  unkind — when  lovers  became  deceitful — 
when  the  world,  the  whole  world,  proved  cold  and  ungenerous, 
her  little  Pompey  alone,  of  all  the  things  that  live,  move,  breathe, 
and  have  a  being  therein,  was  her  constant  and  unremitting 
attendant.  If  she  seemed  sad,  he  howled  his  sympathy  in 
piteous  wailings ;  and  if  joy,  peradventure,  sat  on  her  counte 
nance,  his  frisking  and  gambols  showed  that  that  little  dog  had 
a  heart,  more  sympathetic  than  that  of  many  human  beings. 
And  may  it  please  the  court " 

"  Stop !"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  have  heard  enough  of  this 
case  to  know  that  this  court  has  no  jurisdiction  over  it.  I 
therefore  dismiss  it." 

The  lawyer  expressed  his  determination  to  bring  the  case 
before  a  higher  tribunal. 

Miss  Milden  left  the  court  patting  her  poodle  dog,  and  shed 
ding  tears  over  his  anticipated  approaching  dissolution. 

Doctor  Lobelia  pledged  his  professional  reputation,  that  he 
would  still  restore  the  animal  to  health  and  vigour,  if  allowed 
the  unrestricted  application  of  his  own  "  system." 


A  BREACH  OF  PROMISE.  53 


A  BREACH  OF  PROMISE. 

"  WHAT  is  the  next  case  ?"  said  the  Recorder  to  the  clerk, 
when  he  had  disposed  of  some  four  or  five  remnants  of  wretch 
edness,  against  whom  the  stereotyped  charge  of  "  drunk  and 
jisturbing  the  peace"  had  been  entered. 

"  The  next,"  said  the  clerk,  "  is  Moran  vs.  Gordon." 

"  Call  them,"  said  the  Recorder. 

Clerk.— (loud)— "  Gregory  Gordon  ?" — (louder)—"  Greg 
ory  Gordon  ?" — (still  louder) — "  Gregory  Gordon  ?" 

"  Here,  your  warship,"  said  a  man  with  a  broad  Scotch 
accent,  in  a  very  seedy  coat,  a  very  snuffy  vest,  and  very  dilapi 
dated  pants. 

"  Why  did  you  not  answer  when  your  name  was  first 
called  ?"  said  the  clerk. 

Mr.  Gordon. — Why,  for  the  vera  beest  o'  reasons.  You  see 
my  hearin'  is  nane  o'  the  beest,  and  it's  sae  lang  sin'  I  became 
partially  deaf,  that  I  dinna  ken  the  time ;  but  my  mither  a'ways 
tald  me  that " 

Clerk. — "  No  matter  what  your  mother  told  you ;  we  have 
heard  enough  on  the  subject  of  your  deafness  now. — Mary 
Moran  ?" 

"  I'm  here,  your  honour,  and  I'll  be  there  in  a  jiffy,"  said  a 
voice  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  court ;  "  I  want  to  transphort 
that  decayvin'  thief.  I'll  swear  me  life  and  the  lives  of  me 
four  innocent  chilthren  agin  him.  O !  the  Lord  be  good  to 
your  sowl,  Martin  Moran  !"  The  voice  that  uttered  this  told 
that  its  owner  was  from  the  west  of  the  Shannon.  She  was 
in  her  widowhood ;  and  this  prayer  was  sent  forth  for  her 
deceased  husband. 

In  the  shortest  space  of  time  she  made  her  way  up  to  the 
bench ;  and  as  she  looked  on  Mr.  Gordon,  who  was  just 
helping  himself  with  great  composure  to  rather  a  plentiful 
pinch  of  Maccaba,  she  evidently,  with  greatest  difficulty,  sup 
pressed  her  pent-up  indignation. 

"Now  state  your  charge,  Mrs.  Moran,"  said  the  Recorder; 
"  of  what  do  you  accuse  this  man  ?" 

"  Of  what  do  I  accuse  him  ?"  said  Mrs.  M.,  seeming  sur 
prised  that  the  Recorder  was  not  already  aware  of  the  nature 
and  extent  of  Mr.  Gordon's  trangressions :  4C I  accuse  him  of 
murther — takin'  me  oun  life  and  the  life  of  me  chilther,  be 


54  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

raison  of  the  sarrow  and  grief  brought  on  me  back.     O !  the 
Lord  be  good  to  your  sowl,  Martin  Moran !" 

"  Why,  please  your  honour,"  said  Gordon,  "  you  must  na 
b'leeve  a'  this  woman  tells  you.  It's  fac'  as  deeth,  I  b'leeve 
she's  daft:  sometimes  she's  a  guid,  kindly  body;  but,  ma 
conscience !  at  ither  times  she's  the  vera  deil  vvi'  her  tongue." 

Mrs.  Moran. — "  Won't  your  honour  hear  me  ?  Don't  listen 
to  that  sootherin  rogue :  he'd  coax  the  birds  off  the  bushes, 
so  he  would.  Wasn't  it  his  sweet  talk — tellin'  me  he  was  a 
Scotch  nobleman,  and  that  he  only  wanted  money  lo  put  him 
in  possession  of  the  family  estate,  when  he'd  make  me  a  happy 
woman — wasn't  it  such  palaverin  as  that  ruined  me  kracter  ? 
O!  the  Lord  be  good  to  your  sowl,  Martin  Moran !" 

Recorder. — "  Well,  it  would  appear  as  if  this  case  were  des 
tined  to  be  as  tedious  as  a  suit  in  Chancery.  Can  you  tell  me 
(addressing  Mr.  Gordon)  the  facts — mind  I  say  the  facts  of 
this  case  ?" 

"  Wi'  the  greatest  pleesure,  your  honour,"  said  Gordon, 
pulling  out  his  horn  snuff-bob,  priming  his  nose  with  a  por 
tion  of  its  contents,  and  presenting  the  titillating  powder  very 
courteously  to  the  Recorder,  "  Mrs.  Mooraan,"  he  continued, 
"  is  a  widow  leedy." 

Mrs.  Moran. — "  O !  the  Lord  be  good  to  yer  sowl,  Martin 
Moran  !" 

Police  Officer.—"  Silence,  Madam." 

Mr.  Gordon. — "  Weel,  as  I  was  sayin',  ye  ken  she's  a  widow 
leedy,  and  I  agreed  wi'  her  to  teach  her  eeldest  son  the  rudi 
ments  of  a  classical  education  and  the  prooper  pronoonciation 
o'  the  English  language;  Maartin  is  the  boy's  name " 

Mrs.  Moran. — "  Yis,  he  was  called  afther  me  darlin',  dead- 
and  gone,  first  husband.  O!  the  Lord  be  good  to  yer  sowl, 
Martin  Moran." 

Recorder. — "Keep  that  woman  silent." 

Mr.  Gordon. — Weel,  as  I  was  relaatin',  I  was  to  have  my 
board  and  lodgin'  for  instructin'  the  boy ;  but  I  found  he  had 
nae  the  genius  for  learnin',  so  I  told  Mrs  Mooraan,  as  a  coon- 
scientious  mon,  that  I  thought  o'  brakin'  off  the  agreement." 

Mrs.  Moran. — "  There  it  is,  yer  honour — there  it  is !  Doesn't 
the  decaver  admit  himself  that  he  bruck  off  the  match  ?  Can't  I 

ehue  him  now  for  a  brache  o'  promise.     Jf O!  the  Lord 

be  good  to  yer  sowl,  Martin  Moran  !" 

Mr. Gordon. — "There  noo,  your  honour  sees  the  wooman's 
intellect  is  disturbed.  Why,  your  honour,  I  ne'er  spoke  o'  mar- 


A  FIGHT  ABOUT  THE  FASHIONS.  55 

riage  to  her  in  a'  my  life,  for  I  have  got  as  bonnie  a  wife  and  five 
as  beautiful  bairns  at  home  in  Scotland  as  you  would  see  from 
Land's-End  to  John  o'  Groats." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Moran,  in  a  shriek  of  surprise — 
"  a  wife  and  five  childer  in  Scotland  !  O !  the  Lord  be  good  to 
yer  sowl  in  glory,  Martin  Moran!" 

Here  Mrs.  M.  swooned  off  in  true  theatrical  style,  and  was 
carried  out  of  the  court.  The  Recorder  told  Mr.  Gordon  he 
was  dismissed ;  that  if  Mrs.  Moran  thought  fit  to  sue  him  for 
a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,  she  was  at  perfect  liberty  to 
do  so ;  though,  as  a  friend,  he  would  advise  her  to  adopt  a 
different  course,  and  say  no  more  about  it. 


A  FIGHT  ABOUT  THE  FASHIONS. 

'  'Tis  all  the  fashion,  the  fashion  they  say, 
'Tis  the  whim  of  a  moment  and  lives  but  a  day." 

MEN  are  not  more  the  slaves  of  their  passions  than  women 
are  of  their  fashions,  and  the  old  adage  is  literally  true,  that  a 
woman  would  rather  be  out  of  the  world  than  out  of  the  fash 
ion.  There  were  two  pale,  bilious,  interesting  looking  young 
ladies  up  before  Recorder  Baldwin  yesterday,  each  of  whom 
was  ardent  if  not  eloquent,  in  detailing  her  wrongs.  The 
name  of  one  of  them  was  Jane  Jones,  and  that  of  the  other 
Eliza  Spriggins.  Both  of  them  wore  their  hair  in  ringlets—  • 
wore  short  bonnets  which  covered  a  part  of  the  head  but  no 
part  of  the  face,  and  net-work  gloves  which  covered  the 
hands,  but  no  part  of  the  fingers.  When  either  spoke,  she 
shook  her  head  with  such  vehemence  that  her  ringlets  got  into 
the  most  disturbed  confusion,  and  she  looked  like  the  heroine 
of  a  melo-drama. 

"  I'll  let  you  know,  Miss  Jones,"  said  the  amiable  Miss 
Spriggins — "  I'll  let  you  know  you  can't  offend  a  lady  in  her 
own  house  that  lives  by  her  needle,  and  han't  got  no  natural 
protector — I'll  let  you  know  that  law  is  law  in  New  Orleans." 

"Yes,  and  I'll  let  you  know,"  said  the  equally  interesting 
Miss  Jones,  "  that  fashions  is  fashions  in  New  Orleans,  and 
that  you  don't  know  nothing  about  them  only  what  you  get 
from  the  Ladies'  Magazine — that  you  are  not  to  spoil  a  lady's 
silk  dress,  and  afterwards  give  a  lady  impudence." 

"  What  is  the  cause  of  this  noise?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Miss  Jones  is,"  said  Eliza  Spriggins. 


56  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

"Your  honour  will  find,  when  you  hears  the  case,"  said  Jane 
Jones,  "  that  I'm  the  agrieved  party." 

"  Well,  let  us  hear  what  you  have  got  to  say,"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"  Well,  this  here  young  woman,  you  see,  sir,  says  she's  a 
dressmaker,  but  I  believe  she  is  nothing  more  than  a  tailoress. 
I  told  her  I  was  going  to  get  a  silk  dress  made  with  tight 
sleeves,  in  the  Elssler  fashion :  she  said  she  could  give  it  any 
kind  of  a  cut,  but  she  has  given  it  no  kind  of  a  cut ;  and  she 
cut  me  with  her  scissors  when  I  spoke  to  her  about  spoiling 
my  dress.  Instead  of  making  the  sleeves  tight  they  are  the 
old  fashioned  bishop  sleeves;  and  instead  of  putting  in  the 
Elssler  buttons,  she  has  substituted  hooks  and  eyes." 

Eliza  Spriggins  said,  though  the  complainant's  story  seemed 
'fine  as  silk,'  there  was  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it.  When  she 
brought  home  the  dress  to  Miss  Jones  it  fitted  her  to  a  T, — 
she  seemed  much  pleased  with  it;  and  it  was  only  when  she, 
Eliza,  asked  for  payment  that  she  heard  any  complaints,  or 
was  told  about  the  Elssler  buttons  and  the  tight  sleeves. 

The  Recorder  said  he  did  not  sit  there  to  decide  on  the 
female  fashions.  If  either  of  the  fair  complainants  had  an 
information  to  lodge  for  a  breach  of  the  peace,  he  was  pre 
pared  to  receive  it. 

Miss  Jones  didn't  think  it  was  lady-like  to  make  oath  in 
court ;  and  Miss  Spriggins  didn't  want  to  take  '  no  oath,'  she 
only  wanted  the  sum  due  her  for  making  the  gown. 

The  Recorder  dismissed  the  case,  telling  her  to  apply  to  one 
of  the  city  court  judges  for  redress. 

Miss  S.  pulled  her  veil  down  off  her  little  bonnet  and  over 
her  pale  face  ;  she  shook  her  head  and  her  ringlets  at  the 
same  time,  and  said  she  was  determined  to  have  justice. 


TURKEY  AND  GREASE,  » 

OR   DOMESTIC    ECONOMY   EXEMPLIFIED   IN    THE    PREPARATION 
OF   GOMBO. 

A  CASE  came  before  one  of  our  associate  city  court  judges 
a  few  days  since,  in  the  decision  of  which  gourmands,  gom bo- 
eaters,  epicures,  and  every  body  are  interested.  The  plaintiff 
in  this  instance  was  Municipality  No.  Two,  through  its  organ, 


TURKEY  AND  GREASE.  57 

the  commissary  of  the  Poydras  street  market :  the  defendant 
was  a  dark  eyed  Italian,  with  a  scowl  on  his  countenance  like 
that  which  played — no,  which  sullenly  brooded — over  the 
features  of  the  captain  of  the  noted  Forty  Thieves.  His  name 
—another  proof  that  there  is  nothing  in  a  name — his  name  is 
Romeo,  but  as  unlike  the  gallant,  captivating,  romantic  Romeo, 
who  wooed  and  won  the  gentle  Juliet,  the  heir  and  hope  of 
Capulet's  patrician  house,  is  he,  as  a  burnt  pine-tree  stump  is 
unlike  the  tall  and  graceful  palm — as  a  mud  pool  is  unlike 
the  sparkling,  limpid  rivulet.  The  charge  against  Romeo — 
oh,  that  one  with  so  fair  a  name  ever  peddled  fowl :  it  seemeth 
to  the  Shakspearian  ear  "  most  foul  and  unnatural" — but  the 
charge  against  him,  we  were  about  to  say,  was,  that  he  sold 
stale  turkeys,  which  it  was  hinted  were  stolen,  and  that  he 
did  it — exposed  his  stale  turkeys — contrary  to  the  ordinance 
in  that  case  made  and  provided. 

The  difficulty  which  presented  itself  in  the  trial  seemed  to 
be,  to  determine  what  was  a  stale  turkey,  according  to  the 
meaning  and  intent  of  the  statute.  The  point  was  a  nice  one, 
and  we  are  not  sure  that  an  appeal  does  not  lie  in  the  case. 

The  commissary  brought  forward  witnesses — men  of  unim 
peachable  veracity — who  had  seen,  felt  and  nosed  the  turkeys 
in  the  market.  Their  object  was  to  establish  the  /act  that  the 
turkeys  died  and  were  not  killed,  or,  as  an  Irish  witness  ex 
pressed  it,  that  they  died  before  they  were  killed.  One  witness, 
who  showed  a  deep  research  and  most  familiar  knowledge  in 
the  diagnosis  of  diseases  of  fowls  in  general  and  turkeys  in 
particular,  went  on  to  show  that  the  lean  and  attenuated  state 
of  the  turkeys  must  have  proceeded  from  an  affection  of  the 
heart ;  they  were  western  turkeys,  he  said,  and  western  turkeys 
were  never  known  to  thrive  when  they  come  south — a  circum 
stance  which  he  attributed  to  that  love  for  the  place  of  one's 
nativity  which  operates  similarly  on  the  Swiss  and  the  turkeys. 

Although  the  testimony  strongly  favoured  the  presumption 
that  the  turkeys  paid  the  debt  of  nature  before  it  was  extorted 
from  them  by  violent  means,  the  fact  was  not  clearly  estab 
lished  ;  and  in  this  state  was  the  case  when  Romeo  was  called 
on  for  his  defence.  Romeo  muttered  something  in  the  lan 
guage  in  which  Dante  sung,  and  making  certain  pantomimic 
signs,  he  pointed  to  a  mercurial  little  Frenchman  who  stood 
near  him  ;  his  gestures  seemed  to  say,  u  Here  is  one  who  will 
tell  you  all  about  it." 

Jean  Duval,  Romeo's  principal  witness,  was  called  forward, 


58  PICKINGS  FKOM  THE  u  I'lCAVUKE." 

and,  like  the  dead  turkeys,  he  was  not  encumbered  with  any 
superabundant  or  superfluous  flesh. 

u  What  do  you  know  about  these  turkeys,  Mr.  Duval  ?"  said 
the  judge. 

Jean. — "  I  know  all  de  ting  'bout  dem." 

Judge. — "Let  us  hear  what  it  is,  then  ?" 

Jean. — "  Vel,  you  sees,  monsieur  Judge,  I  keeps  what  you 
calls  one  fus  rate,  one  gran'  restaurat.  I  keeps  de  turkeys  boil, 
de  turkeys  roas',  de  turkeys  fricassee,  de  turkeys  gombo,  de  tur 
keys  ebery  way.  Romeo  be  my  marchand.  I  say, 'Romeo, 
you  bring  me  turkey  to  boil,  eh  ?'  and  he  says,  ;  oui,'  and  bring 
him  ;  and  I  say,  '  Romeo,  you  bring  turkey  for  roas' — fine  fat 
fellow,  eh  ?'  and  he  says  4  oui,'  and  he  bring  him  :  and  I  says, 
1  Romeo,  you  brings  me  two  turkeys  to-day  for  de  gombo — no 
fat,  but  smell  strong,  eh  ?'  and  he  says  '  oui,'  and  he  brought 
me  dem  vera  two  turkeys." 

Judge. — "  Then  am  J  to  understand  that  these  two  turkeys 
were  brought  to  market  by  your  order  and  for  your  special 
use  ?" 

Jean. — u  Certainement,  monsieur  Judge  :  you  see  dey  be  de 
vera  bes'  for  make  de  dark,  de  real  Parisian  flavour  gombo. 
Wid  de  turkey  what's  got  de  real  strong  smell  you  want  none 
but  half  pepper,  half  salt,  half  onion,  half  garlic :  it  be  all 
nat'ral  seasoned  itself." 

The  judge  said  he  had  no  doubt  but  there  was  great  culinary 
economy  in  buying  a  demi-decomposed  turkey  and  converting 
it  into  gombo,  but  it  was  contrary  to  the  Municipal  ordinance 
to  expose  them  for  sale  in  the  public  market,  and  he  would 
therefore  fine  Romeo  for  the  act  $15,  which  he  did. 

Romeo  paid  the  money,  but  looked  as  if  he  would  rather 
kill  the  judge  than  a  turkey;  the  Frenchman  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  exclaimed  "Mon  Dieu !"  and  the  commissary 
looked  as  important  as  if  some  great  constitutional  question 
had  been  decided  in  his  favour. 


AN  ENTHUSIASTIC  PHRENOLOGIST. 

AMONG  the  prisoners  in  the  Recorder's  box  yesterday,  there 
was  a  short,  shabby,  sharp-nosed  man.  His  coat  was  snuff 
colour,  and  there  was  neither  hair  nor  hat  on  his  head.  He 
•vore  large  green  glasses,  and  seemed  not  to  reflect  for  a  mo- 


AN  ENTHUSIASTIC   PHRENOLOGIST.  59 

ment  that  the  terrors  of  the  calaboose  stared  him  in  the  face. 
He  kept  running  his  hands  over  the  heads  of  his  fellow  pris 
oners,  now  giving  a  shake  of  despair  to  his  head,  and  again 
giving  evidence  of  inward  exultation.  He  had  to  be  called  to 
order  several  times  by  the  peace  officers. 

w  George  Briskman !"  said  the  Recorder. 

There  was  no  reply. 

"  George  Briskman !"  said  the  Recorder  again. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  when  you  hear  your  name  called  ?" 
said  a  police  officer,  going  over  and  giving  the  arm  of  the  little 
man  in  the  snuff-coloured  coat  a  shake ;  it  was  extended  out 
feeling  the  head  of  his  next  door  neighbour. 

The  little  man  rose,  and  with  what  he  intended  for  dignity 
replied — 

u  When  the  court  affixes  to  my  name  those  initials  of  pro 
fessional  distinction,  with  which  the  unanimous  voice  of  the 
faculty  has  honoured  me,  then,  and  not  till  then,  do  I  feel 
bound  to  answer  any  questions." 

"  What  is  your  name,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Dr.  George  Briskman,  M.  D."  said  the  little  man  with  the 
hairless  head,  "  a  name  which  I  trust  will  need  no  sculptured 
urn  to  perpetuate  my  scientific  fame,  when  I  sleep  among  the 
clods  of  the  valley." 

"  Mr.  Briskman,"  said  the  Recorder,  u  you  are  charged  with 
being  found  intoxicated  last  night  and  offering  resistance  to  the 
watchman  who  arrested  you." 

u  What,  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  "  I  intoxicated  !  I  offer  re 
sistance  to  the  watchman !"  and  he  seemed  to  appeal  to  the 
ceiling  of  the  court  instead  of  the  judge,  to  witness  the  falsity 
of  the  charge,  and  then  dropping  down  on  the  seat  after  the 
most  melo-dramatic  fashion,  he  said  in  a  subdued  voice,  u  yes, 
yes,  I  was,  I  was — (He  jumps  suddenly  up,  and  in  a  loud  voice 
continues) — "I  was  intoxicated,  drunk,  delirious,  sir,  but  it 
was  not  with  alcohol — I  am  intoxicated  now,  sir,  but  it  is  the 
effect  of  those  copious  libations  which  I  have  quaffed  at  the 
fountain  of  science.  I  have  not  resisted  the  watchman,  may 
it  please  the  court,  but  I  have  resisted  the  ignorance  of  the  age 
— I  have  battled  against  the  prejudices  of  narrow  minds,  and 
I  have  opposed  those  who  would  arrest  the  march  of  intellect. 
This,  sir,  I  have  done,  and  this  I  shall  continue  to  do  till  my 
new  theoretical  system  of  phrenology  becomes  universally 
known — till  the  lines  on  men's  heads,  sir,  like  the  labels  on 
otlles  in  apothecaries  stores,  tell  their  contents ;  in  a  word, 


GO  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

sir,  till  the  minds  of  mankind  are  seen  at  a  single  glance  through 
the  telescopic  lens  of  Briskmatfs  new  system  of  Phrenology." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  all  this  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  charge." 

"  Well  sir,"  said  George  Briskman,  M.  D.  "  I'll  prove  it. 
Here  for  instance  is  my  own  head — it  is  not  naturally  bald, 
sir,  but  I  have  made  it  so  that  I  might  lecture  with  the  greater 
facility  on  my  new  system — ^another  sacrifice  of  mine,  sir, 
to  science — you  perceive,  sir,  how  distinctly  the  lines  are 
marked — "  [Here  he  traced  out  the  different  bumps  with  the 
fore-finger  of  his  right  hand] — "  benevolence  large — veneration 
very  well  developed — hope  quite  prominent " 

"That  will  do,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  we  are  not  prepared 
now  to  hear  a  lecture  on  phrenology — what  have  you  to  say 
to  the  charge  ?" 

"  Will  the  court  indulge  me  for  a  moment  ?"  said  the  man 
with  the  new  system ;  and  without  waiting  to  see  whether  the 
court  would  or  not,  he  proceeded — 

"  Here,  sir,"  he  said,  clapping  his  finger  behind  the  ear  of  a 
big  Irishman,  who  was  by  his  side,  and  whose  face  was  orna 
mented  by  a  pair  of  black  eyes  and  a  bloody  nose — "  here  is 
another  illustration  of  my  new  system.  Why,  sir,  his  bump 
of  combativeness  swells  out  like  a  mountain ;  nor,  sir,  is 
amativeness  hid  on  the  head  of  this  individual — [He  ran  his 
fingers  round  to  the  back  of  the  Irishman's  head] — here,  sir, 
the  bump  of  amativeness  is  very  large  indeed — very  large — 
quite  a  protuberance !" 

The  Recorder,  seeing,  that  the  little  man  in  the  snuff-coloured 
coat  was  an  enthusiastic  disciple  of  Spurzheim  and  Gall,  more 
sinned  against  than  sinning,  said :  u  Well,  Doctor  George 
Briskman,  M.  D.,  I  shall  let  you  go  this  time  on  paying  your 
jail  fees." 

"  One  moment,  may  it  please  the  court,"  said  the  little  bald- 
headed  man  :  "  There,  sir,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  Dutch  boy, 
who  was  arrested  for  pulling  cotton  out  of  the  bales  lying  on 
the  Levee  :  "  there,  sir,  is  an  extraordinary  head !  How  large 
acquisitiveness  and  constructiveness!  no  locality — no  eventu 
ality  !  and,  except  the  watchman  who  arrested  me  last  night, 
I  never,  in  the  whole  course  of  my  experience,  met  any  one 
who  has  adhesiveness  so  large — O,  that  1  had  a  cast  of  that 
boy's  head !" 

"  You  cannot  take  it  now,"  said  the  Recorder  :  a  Go  out." 

The  little  man  was  shown  the  way  out  by  a  police  officer, 


ON  A  JOLLY  SPREE.  61 

and  as  he  went  he  said  with  exultation — "  How  wonderfully 
rapid  is  the  progress  of  my  system  I  How  the  dark  clouds  of 
ignorance  are  being  driven  from  society  by  the  bright  sun  <jf 
phrenological  science !  Happy  age !  Glorious  era  !" 

The  little  man  having  been  disposed  of,  the  rest  of  the 
prisoners  were  taken  up  and  disposed  of  in  turn. 


ON  A  JOLLY  SPREE. 

THERE  was  a  large  batch  of  "spreeing  coves"  brought  up 
before  the- Recorder  yesterday.  They  occupied  the  side  seat 
within  the  bar,  and  looked  like  men  going  through  the  principal 
ordeal  of  sea-sickness.  If  not  of  the  swell  mob,  they  seemed 
to  be  of  the  semi-swell  mob.  The  crown  of  one  customer's 
hat  hung  out  on  one  side,  like  the  lid  of  a  tea  canister.  The  knot 
of  another's  stock  was  turned  back  under  his  ear.  The  coat 
of  a  third,  he  being  half  whig  and  half  locofoco,  had  divided, 
and  was  split  up  the  back  centre  seam  to  the  collar.  The 
4  ducks'  of  another  seemed  to  have  been  paddling  in  the  puddle, 
as  all  ducks  will  be.  Each  and  every  one  of  them  was  branded 
with  the  marks  of  dissipation.  Their  names,  as  they  appeared 
on  the  watch  returns,  were  John  Smith,  Bill  Brown,  Charley 
Jones,  Jonathan  Swiller,  Patrick  O'Shaughnessy  and  Duncan 
McPherson. 

"  Watchman  McManns,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Here,  sur,"  said  Mr.  McManus,  making  his  way  up  to  the 
bench. 

"  What  have  these  men  been  doing  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  O  they  were  cutting  up  all  kinds  of  shines,"  said  McManus ; 
"  knocking  over  the  ashes  barrels,  shying  stones  at  the  lamps, 
kicking  at  doors,  and  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  whole  city. 
I  thought,  your  honour,  they  were  out  of  their  sinsis." 

"  John  Smith,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  I  assure  you — hiccup— I  assure  you,  Mr.  Chair,  that  I 
never  sung  a  song — hiccup— but  my  particular  friend,  Brown, 
will  favour  the  company ;  wont  you  ?-— hiccup— wont  you, 
Brown,  old  boy  ?"  and"  here  he  gave  Brown,  who  sat  next  him, 
a  warm  slap  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Silence ! — keep  order  in  court,"  said  several  of  the  police 
officers. 

"  Chair !  chair  !  chair !"  vociferated  Smith,  Brown,  Jones 
and  Co. 


62  PICKINGS    FROM    THE     "PICAYUNE." 

Order  was  temporarily  restored,  and  the  Recorder  proceed 
ed —  V  ' 

"  Bill  Brown." 

Bill,  on  hearing  his  name  pronounced,  made  an  effort  to 
move,  and  his  head  gave  a  galvanic  motion  to  either  side  like 
that  of  a  Dutch  doll.  He  managed,  however,  to  get  on  his 
legs,  and  looking  wildly  around  him  he  said — 

"Gentlemen — gem'en,  I'll  give  you — hiccup — I'll  give  you> 
entlemen,  the  American  Eagle !" 

"  Silence  !  sit  down, — said  the  officer,  going  over  to  Brown, 
placing  his  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  pushing  him  into  his 
seat — "  sit  down  sir." 

The  course  being  again  clear,  the  Recorder  proceeded — 

"  Charley  Jones." 

"  M-m-m-Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Jones,  his  ce_ye  in  a  fine 
phrensy  rolling,' — "  I  respond  to  the  call " 

"  Bravo,  Jones  !  bravo,  Jones  !  Jones'  song !  song !" — shouted 
the  half  dozen  fuddled  prisoners,  and  before  the  officers  had 
lime  to  interpose,  Jones  was  singing — 

"  'Tis  the  star-spangled  banner, 
And  long  may  it  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free, 
And  the  home  of  the  brave  !" 

Jones  was  soon  made  to  shut  up,  and  Jonathan  Svviller's 
name  was  called  by  the  Recorder. 

"  Wai,  Squire,"  said  Jonathan,  "  I  kalk'late  I  was  on  an 
almighty  big  bender  last  night,  I  tell  you,  and  the  way  we  did 
walk  into  the  highly  concentrated  hard  cider — or  as  you 
city  folks  call  it,  sham-pag-ne — worn't  slow,  I  tell  you ;  goody 
gracious,  if  mother  knew  I  was  carrying  on  so ! 

Jonathan  was  silenced,  and  Patrick  O'Shaughnessy  was 
called. 

"Gintlemen, — said  Patrick,  "unaccustomed  as  I  am  to 
public  spaykin',  it  can't  be  expicted  I'll  make  a  great  speach 
intirely,  but  I'll  howld  any  man  twinty  dollars  that  New 
York  will  go  for  Van  Buren,  body  and  sowl,  Sixth  Ward  and 
all." 

No  one  seemed  to  notice  Pat's  speech,  or  his  bet,  and  the 
Recorder  called — 

"  Duncan  McPherson." 

"Awe  weel,  mon,"  said  Duncan,  "I  have  tauld  Patrick 
cover  and  oover  again  na  to  be  so  foond  o'  makin'  his  bleth- 
?rin'  speeches  and  thrawin'  away  his  siller  on  k<n«  ;  if  he 


THE  SCHOOL  MASTER  ABROAD. 


63 


waats  a  wee  bit  he'll  ken  all  aboot  the  elections  without  bet- 
tin',  but  the  mon  is  daft  I  believe." 

The  Recorder  thought  that  not  only  Patrick,  butMcPherson 
himself,  and  all  their  companions  were  daft,  so  he  fined  them 
ten  dollars  each  and  discharged  them. 


THE  SCHOOL  MASTER  ABROAD. 

ALEXANDER  PERSSE,  a  man  who  looked  like  a  long  used, 
badly  bound  edition  of  Essays  on  Intemperance,  was  found  "  on 
the  shelf,"  or  rather  on  the  banquette  in  Philippa  street,  on 
Wednesday  night.  He  was  "  very  well,  I  thank  you."  Persse 
teaches  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot ;  but  finding  that  he  could 
not  keep  pace,  we  suppose,  with  the  march  of  intellect,  he  lay 
himself  down  on  the  banquette,  either  to  store  his  mind  with 
new  inspiration  or  to  arrange  the  ideas  with  which  his  mind 
was  already  stored,  and  prepare  for  another  start  off  in  the  in 
tellectual  race. 

"Who  is  here?"  said  the  watchman  when  he  came  up  to 
Persse,  stirring  him  up  with  his  long  pole — "  Who's  here  ?" 

"  I  am,  thou  art,  he,  she  or  it  is,"  said  Persse,  launching  at 
once  into  the  sea  of  his  vocation,  and  taking  the  tone  of  hi? 
language  from  the  "  shop." 

"You  is  high,"  said  the  watchman. 

"  I  deny,  sir,  that  I  am  high,"  said  Persse — "  All  our  authors, 
sir,  who  have  written  on  the  language,  agree  in  saying  that 
high  is  an  adjective,  because,  sir,  it  expresses  a  condition  or 
quality ;  now,  sir,  I  am  Alexander  Persse,  a  noun — a  noun 
proper,  sir,  of  the  first  person,  masculine  gender,  singular  num 
ber — see  here,  old  fellow,  let  us  drink — and  I  am — I  am,  sir, 
nominative  case  to  the  verb  drink.  Now,  sir,  confess  your 
error  when  you  say  I  am  high — am  a  mere  adjective. 

"Come  along  to  the  watchhouse,"  said  Charley. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Presse,  "I  shall  decline  it,  and  in  a  manner 
strictly  in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  Etymology  ;  thus, 
sir,  come,  came,  come.  Now,  sir,  the  conjugation  is  equally 
simple,  thus — I  come,  thou  comest,  he,  she  or  it  cometh  or 
comes. 

"This  here's  all  nonsense,"  said  Charley,  who  was  getting 
out  of  patience  with  the  learned  grammarian. 

"  ITes,  sir,"  said  Persse,  "you  are  perfectly  right;  nonsense 


64  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

is  a  kind  of  compound  word,  combining  both  a  negative  and 
an  affirmative — this,  sir,  is  one  of  the  idioms  peculiar  to  our 
language." 

"  I  wont  hear  no  more  of  it,"  said  Charley  ;  and  making  a 
lever  of  his  right  arm  he  raised  Persse,  and  put  him  on  his  legs 
in  a  perpendicular  position. 

"  That — that,"  said  Persse, "  has  been  done  without  violating 
in  the  slightest  degree  the  recognised  rules  of  grammar ;  per 
example — 1  rise,  thou  risest " 

Charley,  without  saying  another  word,  placed  his  arm  round 
that  of  Persse's  as  a  retainer,  and  walked  him  off  to  the  watch- 
house. 

"  Your  actions,  sir,"  said  Persse  to  Charley,  "  are  those  of 
a  scholar  and  if  I  mistake  not,  are  agreeable  to  the  second 
rule  in  Syntax,  which  says  that  two  or  more  nouns  in  the  sin 
gular  number,  joined  together  by  one  or  more  copulative  con 
junctions — your  arm  and  mine  as  in  the  'present  case,  for 
instance — must  have  verbs,  nouns  and  pronouns  agreeing  with 
them  in  the  plural  number — so  that  instead  of  J  go,  or  you  go, 
it  is  we  go.  You  understand,  don't  you  ?  I  know  you  do. 

u  Yes,  I  understands  you're  a  blamed  fool,"  said  Charley ; 
and  in  a  minute  or  two  more  Persse's  name  was  on  the  books 
of  the  watchhouse. 

"  Persse,"  said  the  Recorder  to  him  yesterday  morning, 
"  you  were  found  lying  on  the  banquette." 

"  Yes,  may  it  please  the  court,"  said  Persse,  "  I  was  illus 
trating  the  neuter  verb  to  lie." 

"  What  business  do  you  follow,  Mr.  Persse  ?"  said  the  Re 
corder. 

"  I  am  a  professor,  sir,  of  the  polite  languages,"  said  Persse. 

"  Your  language  was  any  thing  but  polite  in  the  watchhouse 
last  night,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  I  may  have  been,  thou  mayest  have  been,  he,  she  or  it,  at 
some  period  of  their  lives,  may  have  been  in  a  subjunctive 
mood,  or  represented  under  a  certain  condition,"  said  Persse. 

"  I  shall  let  you  go  this  time,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Verbum  sal  sapienti,  or  as  the  vulgar  translation  has  it, 
N.  S."  said  Perssee,  and  he  left  the  ofliro. 

'  ,   1 


A  S.COTCH   MELODIST.  65 


A  SCOTCH  MELODIST. 

RECORDER  BALDWIN  had  lots  of  business  on  hand  yester 
day.  We  shall  dispose  of  them  by  the  lot ;  but  before  doing 
so  there  are  some  one  or  two  of  them  to  whom  we  would  pay 
our  devoirs. 

First  there  was  John  Wilson,  "  fra  the  land  o'  cakes."  John 
is  an  ardent  admirer  of  the  poetry  of  his  countryman,  Burns ; 
but  a  more  ardent  admirer  of  the  ardent.  His  face  is  as  parti 
coloured  as  a  Scotch  plaid,  and  as  inexpressive  as  a  Scotch 
haggis.  When  the  watchman  met  him  he  was  apostrophizing. 
in  the  words  of  his  national  poet,  a  bottle  of  Monongahela 
\vhich  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  from  which,  ever  and  anon, 
he  took  a  swig;  but  whether  to  the  tune  of  Old  Hundred,  or 
"  Cauld  Kail  in  Aberdeen,"  the  watchman  for  the  life  of  him 
could  not  tell.  Thus  he  sung : — 

"  Thou  clears  the  head  o'  doited  Lear, 
Thou  cheers  the  heart  o'  drooping  care, 
Thou  strings  the  nerves  o'  labour  saer 

At's  weary  toil. 
Thou  ever  brightens  dark  despair 

Wi'  glowing  smile." 

"  Silence,"  says  Charley,  with  all  the  dignified  gravity  of 
the  chairman  of  a  ward  meeting — "  silence,  feller.  You  seems 
to  be  a  musical  character,  eh  ?" 

John  Wilson,  inspired  by  the  contents  of  his  bottle,  though 
moneyless,  was  all  melody.  He  continued  his  song,  regardless 
of  the  watchman  or 

"  The  thousand  ills  that  rise  where  money  fails — 
Debts,  threais,  and  duns;  bills,  baliffs,  writs  and  jails." 

"  Yon  seems  to  be  a  great  wocalist,"  said  Charley,  speaking 
much  louder  than  before;  "you  is  wery  musical." 

"  Musical  ?"  said  Wilson,  bringing  his  legs  into  two  sides  of 
a  triangle,  placing  his  arms  akimbo,  giving  a  hiccup,  and  loo1- 
ing  at  Charley  as  wonderful  as  if  he  were  a  "  warlock,"  or  a 
44 bogle," — "musical!"  he  reiterated,  "musical!  aye,  you're 
right  mon,"  recollecting  himself;  "I  occasionally  play  a  little 
on  the  Scotch  fiddle,  but  I'm  a  poor  hand  at  it,  mon ;  I'm  a 
poor  hand  at  it  noo — ha !  ha !  ha !"  Wilson  here  made  an 
attempt  to  laugh  at  his  own  wit,  but  Charley  thought  the  laugh 
was  against  himself,  and  though  the  old  saw  says  a  cat  may 
62 


66  PICKINGS  FROM   THE  "PICAYUNE." 

laugh  at  a  king,  he  felt  that  a  watchman  was  not  to  be  laughed 
at  with  impunity,  and  without  more  ado  he  took  Wilson  to  the 
watchhouse. 

"  Wilson,"  said  the  Recorder  to  him  yesterday  morning, 
"you  were  drunk  last  night." 

"  Weel,"  said  Wilson,  "  1  dinna  ken  any  thing  aboot  it ;  I 
might  ha'  had  a  wee  drop  or  so  in  my  e'e." 

"  The  watchman  says,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  that  you  were 
making  a  noise  and  disturbing  the  peace  too." 

"  O  perhaps,"  says  Wilson,  "  I  was  liltin  a  soong  or  the  like, 
but  I  was  na  fou." 

"  Why  were  you  out  so  late  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Why  for  the  vera  best  o'  reasons,"  said  Wilson,  "because 
1  hadn't  a  single  baubee  to  get  my  lodgings." 

"  Well,  I  shall  let  you  go  this  time,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Weel,"  said  Wilson,  "  that's  unco'  kind  o'  your  oonor, 
considering  the  rough  manner  in  which  the  watchman  treated 
me  yestreen. — Gude  mornin'  to  your  oonor,"  and  he  sloped. 


AN  IRISH  ROW. 

MICHAEL  GATELY  and  Andrew  O'Grady  occupied  a  front 
seat  in  the  Baldwin  Omnibus,  or  prisoner's  box  yesterday 
morning. 

"  Ah !  sure  a  pair  never  was  seen 
So  justly  formed  lo  meet  by  nature;" 

'Twos  plain  they'd  on  the  "  batter"  been, 
So  battered  was  their  every  feature. 

Gately  had  a  black  crescent  round  his  eye  like  an  eclipse 
on  a  segment  of  the  sun ;  his  front  teeth  were  out,  and  the 
vacuum  resembled  the  Croton  aqueduct  on  a  small  scale;  his 
cheeks  were  swelled  out  like  Clayton  the  aeronant's  balloon 
when  inflated  with  gas;  his  hair  appeared  in  as  confused  a  state 
as  if  the  Natchez  tornado  had  passed  through  it;  and  between 
blood  and  wounds  his  whole  countenance  might  be  compared 
to  a  badly  painted  map  of  the  battle  of  Tippecanoe. 

O'Grady  was  so  like  Gately,  the  partner  of  his  sprees,  his 
fighting  and  his  fame,  that  if  they  were  both  put  into  the  wheel 
of  the  Grand  Real  Estate  Lottery,  one  might  be  drawn  out  in 
mistake  for  the  other,  unless  they  were  separately  and  dis 
tinctively  numbered. 


AN  IRISH  ROW.  67 

The  charge  against  them  was  for  fighting  and  disturbing  the 
peace,  and  from  the  marks,  wounds  and  contusions  which  they 
bore,  it  was  evident  that  they  had  given  but  the  half  of  it — 
that  where  the  hottest  of  the  fight  was  there  must  they  have 
been. 

"  Gately,"  says  the  Recorder,  "  you  are  charged  with  huving 
been  fighting  and  disturbing  the  peace." 

"  The  divil  a  fight  did  I  fight,"  says  Gately,  "  though  faith 
when  the  fighting  was  going  round  I  got  a  child's  share  of  it. 
Just  let  your  oner  be  after  looking  at  me  eye ;  see  how  nicely 
it's  soldered  up  for  me  ;  bad  scran  to  me  but  it's  so  well  saled 
(sealed)  that  I  think  if  I  was  postmarked  now  I  would  be  con 
veyed  free  of  expinse  to  any  part  of  the  United  States  in  this 
kingdum  !  And  then  take  a  look  at  my  nose,  your  oner;  isn't 
that  a  very  purty  nose  for  a  dacent  boy  to  have  on  his  face  of 
a  blissid  Monday  morning  ?  isn't  it  a  burnin  shame  to  have 
sich  a  nose  ?  but  it's  no  more  like  my  nose — that  is,  my  nose 
that  is,  is  no  more  like  my  nose  that  was,  than  a  French  cotillion 
is  like  an  Irish  jig.  And  look  there,  sur,"  he  continued, 
pointing  to  a  mark  under  his  ear,  "  there  was  a  purty  polthogue 
I  got  just  between  the  lug  and  the  horn,  where  theConnaught 
man  sthruck  his  ass.  O  mille  murther !  it's  meself  that  was 
assaulted  in  arnist." 

"  The  watchman  swears,"  says  the  Recorder,  "  that  you 
were  fighting,  and  that  when  he  interfered  you  struck  him  and 
knocked  him  down." 

"O,  the  divil  burn  him,"  says  Mick,  "  I  took  him  for  a  Far- 
down,  and  gave  him  a  hand  and  foot  that  laid  him  as  flat  as  a 
pancake,  just  to  show  him  what  a  boy  from  the  shart  grass 
could  do." 

"  Since  such  is  your  method  of  giving  the  hand,"  says  the 
Recorder,  "  it  is  not  at  all  desirable  to  cultivate  your  acquain 
tance  ;  you  will  therfore  have  to  find  security 'to  answer  for  an 
assault  and  battery  before  the  criminal  court." 

On  O'Grady's  being  called  up  he  was  about  to  enter  into  as 
long  an  explanation  as  Gately,  of  how  he  got  into  the  scrape ; 
but  the  Recorder  told  him  that  he  might  reserve  any  remarks 
he  ha.d  to  make  in  justification  of  his  conduct,  for  a  future 
occasion,  as  he  too  would  have  to  appear  before  the  criminal 
court. 


PICKINGS   FROM  THE  "  PICAYUiVE. 


A  TRIAL  OF   SKILL-THE  RIVAL  BOOT  BLACKS. 

IF  dancing  darkies  have  their  trials  of  skill,  why  should  not 
boot-polishing  darkies  have  theirs  ?  If  the  latter  cannot  kick 
their  heels  as  high  as  the  former,  they  can  give  the  heel  and 
toe  touches  just  as  slick,  and  can  shine  a  little  more  so.  Is  not 
polishing  the  understanding  more  consonant  with  the  usages 
of  civilized  society  than  indulging  in  break-downs  ? — Most 
certainly  it  is.  Break-downs  are  too  common — too  much  an 
every-day  occurrence  at  the  present  time. — Bank  presidents 
have  their  break-downs,  sub-treasurers  have  their  break-downs, 
speculators  have  their  break-downs,  race  horses  have  their 
break-downs,  cabs  and  omnibusses  have  their  break-downs, 
and  negro  dancers  have  their  break-downs :  the  thing  has 
become  decidedly  vulgar. 

Having  said  so  much  in  order  to  show  that  the  world  is  just 
as  much  interested  in  a  trial  of  skill  between  two  boot-blacks 
as  between  two  who  essay  to  see  which  will  rap  his  heels 
fastest  against  the  boards  and  still  keep  time  to  the  tune  of  a 
discordant  fiddle,  we  will  now  speak  of  the  rival  Ethiopians 
themselves. 

Two  of  the  brotherhood  were  up  before  the  Recorder  yes 
terday.  Each  of  them  carried  with  him  his  insignia  of  office, 
to  wit — a  set  of  shoe-brushes  and  a  supply  of  blacking  which 
shone  like  their  own  faces. 

"  I  wants  law,  massa  Judge,"  said  one  of  them,  addressing 
the  bench  from  outside  the  railing. 

"Shut  up,  darkey!"  said  one  of  the  peace  officers. 

"  Well,  Ps  a  free  nigger,"  said  the  descendant  of  Ham,  "  and 
I  wants  to  be  secured  in  the  legal  prusuit  ob  my  purfession." 

"  Has  that  negro  any  complaint  to  make  ?"  asked  the  Re 
corder,  who  overheard  his  eloquence. 

"I  has,  Judge,"  said  the  negro,  putting  the  thumb  and  fore 
finger  of  his  right  hand  in  the  wool  that  grew  over  his  fore 
head,  and  giving  his  head  a  pull  down  as  a  mark  of  obeisance — 
w  I  has,  Judge,  and  I  tinks  it's  a  cause  dat'll  insist  de  sym- 
pertations  of  ebery  one  in  fabor  ob  westified  rights  and  orposed 
to  de  lebeling  principels  ob  de  age." 

"  Let  us  hear  it,"  said  the  Recorder—"  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Well,  it's  jus  dis,  massa  Judge,"  said  the  black  plaintiff: 


THE  RIVAL  SHOE-BLACKS.  69 

"  Ps  been  'stablished  in  de  polishin'  business  in  dis  city 
seberal  years  and  upwards,  and  widout  meanin'  to  be  personal 
ised  to  dis  gemman,  (pointing  to  his  brother  darky)  I  tinks  I 
stands  at  de  head  ob  my  purfession. 

"  And  who  disputes  your  title  to  preeminence  ?"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"  Why,  no  one  'zackly,"  said  the  complainant ;  "  but  dis 
here  nigger  interferes  wid  my  out-door  business,  to  de  prejur- 
dice  of  my  nat'ral  rights.  If  a  gemman  ob  a  Sunday  mornin' 
calls  c boots!' — dats  me — he  runs  and  gets  de  job  'fore  I  can 
get  up  to  my  customer.  I  wouldn't  care  so  much  about  gibin 
him  up  de  business  altogeder,  and  retirin  to  pribate  life,  but  I 
knows  he  haint  got  no  genus  for  maintainin  de  dignity  ob  de 
purfession  in  all  its  branches. — He  neber  uses  more  dan  two 
brushes,  and  accordin  to  my  system  three's  a  'dispensible 
necessarification  for  de  real  polish,  and  den,  in  layin  on  de 
blackin,  he  makes  anoder  derivation  from  my  practice  :  I  uses 
de  liquid  fust,  and  den  touches  off  wid  de  patent  paste — he 
neber  uses  de  liquid  no  how,  and  de  conserquensation  is,  he 
can't  shine." 

"  What  has  your  rival  got  to  say  to  this  very  serious  charge  ?" 
said  the  Recorder. 

"  Haint  got  noffin  to  say  to  it,"  said  the  defendant,  who 
heard  the  charge  with  perfect  indifference,  and  was  showing 
his  ivories  with  a  half  grin  while  it  was  being  made — "  I  haint 
got  noffin  to  say  to  it.  I  has  got  a  massa,  and  you  doesn't 
link  dis  child  is  a  gwine  to  elerbate  himself  to  a  lebel  wid  dis 
here  free  nigger  ?  My  massa'll  back  me  agin  him  any  day, 
eder  for  puttin  de  shine  on  a  pair  ob  Wellington's  or  takin  de 
shine  out  ob  him — dat  he  wfll." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Recorder,  "the  merits  of  the  case  had 
better  be  so  decided,  for  it  does  not  come  within  the  scope  of 
my  judicial  duties." 

"Massa  judge,"  said  the  complaining  darkey, — 

"Clear  out,  you  pair  of  animated  blacking  pots,"  said  the 
constable,  showing  at  the  same  time  the  negro  boot  polishers 
the  door. 


70  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 


HAPPY  JACK-HIS  STORY* 

WHAT  a  laughing  gasometer  is  that  Happy  Jack  !  From  the 
dav  his  ma-ma  cheated  him  out  of  his  pap  to  the  day  Domin- 
gos,  the  steward  of  the  Independence,  cheated  him  out  of  his 
grog,  his  has  evidently  been  a  life  of  good  humour.  There 
seems  to  be  an  inexhaustible  reservoir  of  fun  at  the  outer  cor 
ner  of  each  eye.  It  is  liberally  let  out  through  ever-acting 
escape  pipes,  and  it  magnetizes  with  good  humour,  all  who 
come  within  the  sphere  of  its  influence. 

Happy  Jack  being  called  out  and  sworn,  he  gave  his  canvass 
trousers  a  jerk,  putting  himself  in  a  kind  of  rocking  motion, 
bearing  on  one  foot  now  and  then  on  another,  so  as  to  steady 
himself  on  the  deck  of  the  court,  and  scratching  his  head  with 
his  left  hand,  put  on  one  of  his  peculiar  leers,  which  set  the 
court  in  a  roar  of  laughter. 

Recorder. — cc  Go  on,  Jack,  and  state  how  you  came  on  board 
the  Independence,  and  what  occurred  while  you  were  there." 

Jack. — "Why,  your  honour,  I  went  on  board,  quite  in  a 
nat'ral  way;  the  captain  wanted  hands,  I  wanted  employment, 
and  so  we  closed  a  bargain." 

"  Did  any  of  his  hands  leave  him,  Jack  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  cook  and  a  boy  that  was  on  board." 

"Why  did  the  cook  leave  ?" 

"  He  got  dhrunk ;  it  was  a  nat'ral  waykness  he  was  addict 
ed  to." 

"  Well,  then  the  boy ;  what  became  of  him  ?" 

"  Oy  faith,  he  was  taken  in  the  same  way ;  he  got  dhrunk 
too."  [General  laughter,  in  which  the  court  joined.] 

"  Well,  Jack,  tell  us  now  what  passed  on  board." 

"  O  faith,  there  did  a  mighty  dale  pass  on  board,  and  as  I 
didn't  make  a  log-book  of  my  brain,  I  don't  know  that  I  could 
raypeat  it  now.  Be  afther  askin  me  any  question  you  like  and 
I'll  thry  to  answer  you." 

"  Well,  did  you  see  any  arms  on  board  while  you  were  at 
the  Chandeliers  ?" 

"Divil  an  arm  I  saw  but  that  long  barrel  gun  and  a  sword" 

"  Then  you  were  never  in  the  cabin  ?" 

*  Happy  Jack  was  arrested  on  the  schooner  of  one  Deputron,  charged 
with  piracy  in  the  Gulf. 


HAPPY  JACK HIS   STORY.  71 

"  Niver  but  twice  I  poked  me  head  down  there  to  ask  for 
grog." 

"  How  did  you  occupy  your  time  ?" 

"  Sometimes  I  used  to  go  ashore  to  get  milk,  but  I  was 
ginerally  fishing  for  crabs,  and  whin  I'd  stoop  down  to  catch 
'em,  wouldnH  they  all  run  away  ?"  [Laughter.] 

"  Well,  you  used  to  see  the  French  pennant  hung  out,  did 
you  not?  Did  they  say  what  it  was  done  for  ?" 

"  Yis,  they  said  it  was  a  signal  for  dinner,  and  I  must  only 
say  that  if  it  was,  they  took  their  mails  (meals)  mighty  irregu 
lar."  [Laughter.] 

"  Who  used  to  raise  it  and  take  it  down  ?" 

"Why,  that  interestin,  handsome  looking  shipmate  of  mine 
there,  [pointing  to  Domingos,  the  Spaniard]  used.  Ton  me 
sowl,  1  often  thought  the  original  intintion  of  naythur  was  per- 
varted  in  not  making  a  hangman  of  him,  or  givin  him  some 
ginteel  employment  of  that  kind."  [Loud  laughter.] 

"  Did  you  see  the  black  flag — the  pirate's  flag — while  you 
were  on  board  ?" 

"  Troth,  you  may  take  your  davy  (your  oath)  I  didn't,  for 
if  I  did,  you  wouldn't  catch  me  there." 

"  Why ;  you  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  it,  would  you  ?" 

"  Yis  ;  I'd  as  soon  sleep  in  a  church-yard,  or  a  house  haunt 
ed  with  sperils  as  be  on  board  the  vessel  where  it  would  be, 
it  has  such  a  queer,  cut-throat  kind  of  appearance." 

"  Well,  did  you  see  the  armour  or  the  steel  cap  on  board  ?" 

"  I  niver  saw  it  in  all  me  born  days  till  I  saw  it  in  coort 
here  yisterday." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  them  ?" 

"  I  think  the  cap  'ud  be  a  mighty  convaynient  thing  for  a 
man  to  have  on  his  head  at  Donny brook  Fair  when  a  scrim 
mage  (a  fight)  'ud  begin  ;  and  if  a  gintleman  wint  to  decide  a 
pint  of  honour  with  pistols  at  tin  paces,  he  might  find  the 
armour  of  more  use  than  a  Murcell  (Marseilles)  waistcoat." — 
[Immoderate  laughter.] 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  Domingos  abuse  Thompson,  or  threat 
en  him  ?" 

"Yis,  I  did." 

"  What  used  he  to  say  r" 

"  Why,  he  always  spoke  in  Spanish,  or  some  other  outland 
ish  tongue,  and  as  I  niver  took  the  trouble  of  larnin'  the  vulgar 
languages,  I  didn't  understand  him." 

ullow  did  he  look?" 


72  FICK1AGS    FROM    THE  "PICAYUAE." 

Here  the  prisoner  looked  at  the  counsel  who  put  the  ques 
tion,  then  at  Monoel,  and  again  at  the  counsel,  and  burst  out 
into  one  of  his  droll  laughs- — in  which  he  was  joined  by  those 
in  court — as  much  as  to  say,  "  Don't  ask  me,  but  look  at 
him  ;" — and  recovering  himself,  he  said 

"  How  did  he  look  ? — why  he  looked  as  he  looks  now — 
as  ill-humoured  as  if  he  sat  to  a  painther  for  a  portrait  of  a 
man  who  wanted  his  bitthers,  had  no  tick,  and  couldn't  make  a 
raise  of  three  cents." 

'•  What  countryman  are  you,  Jack  ?" 

u  A  Dublin  boy,  your  honour;  the  first  fish  I  iver  tasted 
was  a  Rings-'End  cockle." 

"You  may  stand  aside,  Jack." 

In  fact,  the  four  prisoners  were  strictly  examined,  and  it  was 
found  that  they  were  not  only  not  guilty  of  any  evil  action, 
but  of  any  evil  design,  and  they  were  discharged. 

Deputron,  Abbott  and  Monoel  Domingos  were  then  remand 
ed  for  further  investigation. 


TONGUE  w.  CHOPS. 

A  TALL,  slatternly  looking  woman,  wearing  a  dingy  old  silk 
bonnet  which  was  "  knocked  into  a  cocked  hat,"  appeared 
yesterday  before  Recorder  Baldwin.  Her  hair  hung  about 
"  every  which  way,"  as  if  she  was  preparing  to  enact  the  hero 
ine  in  a  melo-drama,  and  her  gown  was  made  on  the  Nora 
Creina  model,  which 


•left  every  beauty  free, 


To  sink  or  swell  as  heaven  pleases." 

The  nether  end  of  her  garments  were  covered  with  a  consider 
able  sprinkling  of  mud,  and  her  shoes  went  flap,  flap  against 
her  heels  as  she  walked  along,  like  the  spring-board  of  a  rat 
trap.  She  had  small,  peevish  looking  eyes,  concave  jaws,  and 
a  nose  as  sharp  as  a  shoemaker's  knife.  The  constable  in 
whose  custody  she  came  also  introduced  to  the  Recorder  a 
man  who  seemed  to  have  devoted  a  principal  part  of  his  life 
to  the  science  of  eating ;  he  was  so  fat  that  the  fever  and  ague 
couldn't  touch  him  with  a  ten  foot  pole,  his  hair  was  clotted 
and  greasy,  his  face  was  red  and  round,  his  nose  lay  in  be 
tween  his  cheeks  like  a  parsnip  between  a  pair  of  beef  kidneys, 
and  his  eyes  were  like  two  newly  cast  lead  balls  in  a  bucket 


;  It  was  this  barrel  of  packed  pork,  here,"  pointing  to  the  butcher,  "what  kicked 
up  the  rumpus."— Page  73. 


TONGUE  VS.  CHOPS.  73 

of  water.  He  wore  a  blue  apron,  and  sleeves  fastened  on 
with  running  strings  over  the  shirt  to  match ;  he  is,  as  our 
readers  no  doubt  anticipated,  a  knight  of  the  cleaver,  or 
butcher. 

'•  What  have  these  parties  been  doing  ?"  asked  the  Recorder, 
of  the  police  officer. 

"  Disturbing  the  market,  your  honour,"  said  the  officer. 
"  I  wasn't  disturbing  no  market,"  said  the  female  prisoner, 
giving  her  head  a  sudden  toss  back  so  as  to  remove  the  hair 
which  was  falling  into  her  eyes — "  it  was  this  barrel  of  packed 
pork  here,"  pointing  to  the  butcher,  "  what  kicked  up  the 
rumpus. " 

"Let  us  hear  the  story,"  said  the  Recorder — "  what  has  he 
done  ?" 

"  Why,  my  lawyer  tells  me  as  how  I  can  sue  him  for  ob 
taining  money  under  false  pretences,"  said  she  with  the  dingy 
bonnet — "  he's  an  impostor." 

"  That's  a ,"  said  the  fat  man. 

"  Silence !"  said  the  officer  in  an  authoritative  tone. 
"  Well,   I  wont  bear  to  be  called  no  names,"  said  the  fat 
man — «•  I'm  a  butcher,  right  up  and  down,  and  I  never  followed 
no  other  business." 

tk  What  is  the  ground  of  your  charge,  my  good  worn^n  ?" 
asked  the  Recorder — "  what  has  this  man  been  doing  to  you  ?" 
"  O !  if  your  honour  seed  what  he  sold  me  for  prime  beef! 
As  I  live,  when  I  broiled  it  it  was  like  India  rubber;  you 
might  as  well  expect  to  get  gravy  out  of  a  grindstone  as  out 
of  it.  And  his  pork  !  O  say  no  more  about  the  pig.  I  wont 
say  that  hogs  is  drowned  in  the  Mississippi,  and  done  up  after 
wards  to  suit  customers,  but  as  our  parson  used  to  say  when 
he'd  be  speaking  a  kind  of  dubious  like  about  folks'  morality 
— /  have  my  doubts." 

"  Let  us  take  a  peep  at  the  other  side  of  the  picture,"  said 
the  Recorder.  "  What  have  you  to  say  ?"  he  asked,  address 
ing  the  fat  man. 

"Why,  it's  all  gammon,  every  word  of  it,"  replied  the 
butcher — "  this  here  woman  comes  to  me  and  said  she'd  be  a 
regular  customer  of  mine,  and  so  she  has  been,  but  I'm  blow- 
ed  if  she  has  been  a  regular  pay.  I  gave  her  the  very  primest 
pieces,  your  honour,  and  I'll  stake  my  life  there  weren't  no 
such  steaks  in  the  market  as  I  gave  her.  She  always  praised 
my  meat  and  said  I  was  the  most  agreeablest  man  as  she  ever 
dealt  with,  until  I  asked  her  to  settle  up,  and  then,  instead  «.r 


74  PICKINGS    FROM    THE    "  PICAYUNE." 

giving  me  specie  or  municipality  notes,  she  gave  me  abuse. 
I  tell  you  what  it  is,  your  honour,  she's  a  regular  buster  at 
talkingj  she  could  supply  every  stall  in  the  market  with  tongue 
and  export  some  for  the  Northern  market — it  wouldn't  need 
no  pickle,  I  tell  you." 

"  I  claims  the  protection  of  the  court,"  said  the  woman 
with  the  cocked-hat  bonnet,  in  a  shrill  voice — "  O  !  if  my  old 
man  was  here ;"  and  she  appeared  to  begin  to  cry. 

"  That  aint  reg'lar  crying,"  said  the  butcher ;  "  it's  all  done 
for  effect,  as  we  says  when  we  blows  a  weal  to  make  it  look 
fat  like." 

"I  can  hear  no  more  of  this  case,"  said  the  Recorder — 
u  sue  her  for  what  she  owes  you  in  a  civil  court,  and  if  she 
interferes  with  your  business  or  disturbs  the  market  in  future, 
I  will  find  means  to  punish  her." 

The  officer  showed  both  the  litigants  out  of  the  office. 


TOM  TOWNS, 

WHO  DON'T  LIKE  COFFEE. 

m 

"  DON'T,  don't !"  said  Tom  Towns  last  night,  as  the  watch 
man  applied  his  pole  to  the  neighbourhood  of  his  fifth  rib ; 
"  don't  interfere  with  a  feller  wot's  engaged  in  a  fair  fight  with 
the  miskitters  and  aint  got  no  friends." 

"  What  brings  you  here  at  this  time  of  night  ?"  said  the 
watchman — it  was  12  o'clock. 

"  Why,  the  fact  of  it  is,  old  feller,"  said  Tom,  "  it's  all  the 
fault  of  the  government — it's  a  cussed  bad  government,  this, 
and  don't  attend  to  the  interests  of  the  people,  no  how.  Vy 
doesn't  congress  pass  a  stop  law,  that  'ud  enable  a  feller  to 
stop  in  his  boardin'  house  all  the  time  without  havin'  to  fork 
over  to  the  old  'oman  every  Saturday  night  ?  I  goes  in  for 
the  Biddle  policy '  and  ven  Nicholas  tells  the  defaultin'  states 
to  pony  up,  I  says,  go  it,  Nick ! — go  it,  old  feller !  But  then 
I  think,  like  him,  that  individual  repudiation  is  a  right  slap-up 
kind  of  bizness,  and  no  mistake." 

Watchman. — "  I  think  you're  an  idle  feller,  that  don't  work 
and  oughter." 

Tom  Towns. — u  Workin'  aint  ginteel  nor  hindependent,  no 
how  you  can  fix  it.  Besides,  what's  the  use  of  havin'  a 


THE   GREAT  REGULATOR.  75 

preserdent  and  4th  of  July  celebrations,  if  a  feller  can't  live 
without  doin'  nothin'  ?  Vy  can't  the  legislature  pass  a  bill  for 
my  relief?  Aint  I  a  human  bein'  ?  ainta  human  bein'  as  good  as 
a  canal  or  a  railroad  any  day  ?  and  they  passes  acts  in  favour 
o'  them;  now,  I  calls  that  downright  log-rollin'.  But  I'll  fix  'em 
all  next  'lection — I'll  wote  blank  and  weto  the  whole  on  'em. 

"  Before  doing  so,"  said  the  watchman,  "  you  had  better 
come  to  the  calaboose — you  will  have  an  opportunity  of  in 
troducing  yourself  to  the  Recorder  in  the  morning." 

"  Well,  I  aint  no  objection  as  I  knows  on,  watchey,"  said 
Tom,  "  but  pr'aps  you  could  loan  a  poor  feller  a  dime.  I  aint 
got  no  change,  and  I'm  afraid  his  honour  want  stand  bitters  for 
all  hands  in  the  mornin7." 

"No,  he's  a  teto taller,"  said  the  watchman,  "but  he'll 
order  you  your  coffee  without  milk,  I've  no  doubt." 

"Ah,  watchey !"  said  Tom,  "  coffee  is  werry  good — coffee, 
as  Mrs.  Towns  used  to  say,  is  a  wery  good  beverage  for  a 
Turk,  but  it  aint  a  decent  drink  for  a  Christian,  no  how.  A 
4  pig  and  whistle'  is  the  only  reg'lar  eye-opener — if  you  can't 
get  the  ginivine  article,  you  may  fall  back  on  a  gin  cocktail ; 
but  if  you  get  a  quarrelin'  with  the  old  ooman  and  wants  to 
commit  s^oe-iside,  take  the  temperance  pledge ;  it  kills  fellers 
off  faster  than  the  yaller  fever." 

The  watchman  told  him  he  had  been  a  tetotallar  for  twelve 
months,  and  had  no  great  sign  or  presentiment  of  dying  then, 
and  bidding  Tom  a  good  night,  he  turned  the  key  of  the  watch- 
house  door  upon  him. 

The  Recorder  made  a  tetotaller  of  him  for  thirty  days  yes 
terday. 

THE  GREAT  REGULATOR. 

THOMAS  WINDLE  is  the  "  Great  Regulator"  of  the  present 
day. — N.  Biddle  he  looks  upon  as  having  been  a  mere  abstrac 
tionist — an  amateur  in  philosophy  and  a  theorizer  in  finance. 
Biddle's  efforts  at  "  regulating"  were  confined  to  matters  of 
exchange — they  were  soulless,  sordid  and  devoid  of  sentiment. 
Windle  regulates  time — or  timepieces,  being  a  watchmaker — 
and  time  being  money,  and  money  being  power,  it  follows  that 
he  is  the  greater  regulator  of  the  two.  Not  only  can  he  set  a 
watch  but  he  can  watch  a  set — who  are  about  to  liquor — and 
disdaining  the  frigid  formality  of  an  introduction,  makes  himself 
acquainted  with  them  simultaneously  by  the  simple  yet  social 


76  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

operation  of  touching  glasses  all  round.  He  is  often  run  down 
— for  funds — and  often  wound  up — by  liquor — but  still  he  is 
never  loth  to  "run  his  face"  (which  he  calls  the  dialplate  of 
the  mind)  whenever  the  credit  system  leaves  an  aperture  into 
which  he  can  insinuate  it.  He  is  one  of  those  who  has  an 
abiding  confidence  in  the  benevolence  of  mankind,  and,  so  long 
as  present  wants  are  supplied,  never  burthens  himself  with 
perspective  difficulties. 

He  was  yesterday  brought  up  before  Recorder  Baldwin  on 
the  double  charge  of  being  locomotionless — or,  like  one  of 
his  own  chronometers,  out  of  repair — not  able  to  go  on  Tues 
day  night ;  and  of  having  written  a  challenge  to  a  well  known 
amateur  of  the  turf  and  threatening  to  blow  out  his  brains  if 
he  refused  to  give  him  that  satisfaction  which  one  gentleman 
never  refuses  to  afford  another.  The  amateur  sportsman  de 
murred  to  the  proposition. — It  embraced  a  species  of  field 
sports  to  which  he  was  not  particularly  partial ;  he  liked  to 
see  blooded  horses  go  off — but  bloody  pistols  going  off  was 
a  horse  of  another  colour ;  the  tap  of  the  drum  was  more  con 
genial  to  his  ear,  as  an  intimation  of  the  time  to  start,  than  the 
nerve-exciting  words,  u  One — two— three — fire  !"  and  he  re 
garded  it  as  much  better  sport  to  watch  a  well-contested  back 
stretch,  than  to  be  stretched  on  his  back  himself  in  a  contest 
with  the  watchmaker.  Viewing  the  matter  in  this  light,  he 
had  the  challenge  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Recorder,  who 
asked  Mr.  Windle  what  he  had  to  say  in  relation  to  it,  and 
what  to  being  found  u  wound  up"  in  St.  Charles  street.  He 
pleaded  guilty  to  both  charges,  but  "  took  back"  or  retracted 
the  bellicose  language  of  the  challenge.  The  Recorder  remand 
ed  him  until  he  found  security  to  keep  the  peace. 


THE  LAPIDARY  AND  THE  SEA  CAPTAIN. 

A  VERTICAL  SAW.* 

A  humorous  instance  of  the  mistakes  into  which  transcend 
ental  terms  sometimes  lead  people,  recently  occurred  in  this 
city.  We  will  proceed  to  narrate  it,  premising,  by-the-way, 
that  the  written  record  falls  short  of  the  oral  conversation. 

Of  the  hundred  thousand  inhabitants  who  form  the  aggre- 

*  In  New  Orleans  plajmg  off  a  joke  is  called  running  a  saw. 


THE  LAPIDARY  AND  THE   SEA-CAPTAItf.  77 

gate  of  our  population,  a  portion  of  the  number  of  them  are  em 
ployed  in  paving  our  streets.  They  are  honest,  hard-working 
men,  who  literally  obey  the  divine  injunction  in  Genesis,  and 
'«•  earn  their  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow." 

Political  economy  taught  men  long  since  the  efficacy  of 
dividing  and  subdividing  labour,  and  hence  the  business  of 
paving,  like  pin-making,  has  its  several  branches.  One  man, 
for  instance,  purchases  the  paving  stones  in  the  north  ;  another 
buys  them  from  him,  and  has  them  then  shipped  here ;  a  third 
contracts  for  making  the  pavement,  and  he  purchases  the  stones 
from  the  importer;  and  others  perform  the  manual  labour,  or 
make  the  paved  streets.  The  contractors  may  be  called  the 
"Cavaliers"  of  the  business,  and  the  working  paviors  the 
u  Roundheads."  One  of  the  former,  remarkable  for  the  sau- 
viter  in  modo  of  his  manner,  his  recherche  style  of  dress,  and 
"  dem  foin"  appearance  generally,  is  one  of  the  characters  which 
we  shall  have  to  introduce  to  our  readers.  We  shall  call  him 
the  u  Lapidary,"  for  such  he  is  called  by  his  friends,  and  on 
this  epithet  hangs  the  point  of  our  tale.  In  the  application  of 
the  term  to  him,  the  march  of  intellect  will  be  at  once  per 
ceived.  In  an  earlier  stage  of  the  world,  and  in  a  less  enlight 
ened  age,  he  would  be  called  a  contractor  or  a  pavior;  but 
such  language  would  not  consort  with  people's  present  ideas 
of  refinement,  and  hence  he  is  called  by  the  entire  circle  of  his 
acquaintance  "  the  lapidary."  Our  other  character  is  a  New 
England  sea-captain ;  as  frank  a  fellow  as  ever  trod  a  quarter 
deck — generous,  honest  and  adventurous,  who  calls  things  by 
their  proper  names,  and  understands  all  proper  names  by  their 
common  application.  Though  possessed  of  what  is  called  a 
strong  mind,  in  the  general  sense,  he  still  has  one  weakness- 
one  vulnerable  point  of  character — he  is  fond  of  little  articles 
of  vertu.  He  has  an  ivory-headed  cane  of  quaint  workman 
ship,  which  he  brought  from  China;  a  tobacco-box  of  rare 
material,  which  he  purchased  from  a  Turk  in  Constantinople ; 
a  diamond  pin  of  the  purest  water,  which  he  smuggled  from 

the  Brazils,  and but  we  need  not  proceed.  The  cabin  of 

his  ship  is,  in  fact,  a  perfect  cabinet  of  curiosities. 

While  taking  his  eleven  o'clocker  on  a  late  occasion  at  the  St. 
Charles,  in  company  with  a  friend,  they  met  the  "  lapidary," 
whom  the  friend  of  the  worthy  mariner  accosted  with  a  "  How 

are  you, ?  Capt. ,  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  my 

particular  friend,  Mr. ,  the  lapidary.  Mr. ,  my  friend, 

Capt. ,  of  the ." 


78  PICKINGS   FROM    THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

The  captain  threw  out  his  rough  hand,  and  gave  his  newly- 
introduced  acquaintance  a  warm  shake.  The  lapidary  grace 
fully  raised  his  hat  from  his  well-combed  hair,  and  slightly 
motioned  his  head,  acknowledging  the  honour  of  the  intro 
duction.  After  some  common-place  observations  about  the 
heat  of  the  weather,  the  dulness  of  the  times,  and  the  number 
of  persons  leaving  the  city,  the  usual  "  good-bye"  was  recip 
rocally  passed  between  them,  and  the  captain  and  his  friend 
turned  away. 

"  You  called  him  a  lapidary,  didn't  you  ?"  said  the  captain 
to  his  friend. 

"  Certainly  I  did,"  replied  his  friend,  who  is  a  wag  in  his 
way. 

"  Now  I  wonder,"  said  the  captain,  "  what  value  he  would 
set  on  this  diamond  pin  of  mine.  I  have  submitted  it  to  the 
inspection  of  several  judges,  and  they  all  differ  in  fixing  its 
value." 

"  Well,  said  his  friend,  "he  is  there  yet,  and  we'll  step  and 
ask  him." 

Up  they  again  went  to  the  lapidary,  and  the  mutual  friend 
thus  introduced  the  subject. 

"  Mr.  Lapidary,  my  friend,  the  captain  here,  has  got,  as  you 
may  perceive,  a  very  valuable  diamond  pin.  He  wishes  yon 
to  examine  it,  and  say  in  your  opinion  what  it  is  worth." 

Here  the  friend  fell  back  a  pace  or  two  behind  the  captain, 
gave  a  short  influenza  kind  of  cough,  to  attract  the  notice  of 
the  lapidary,  and  having  succeeded,  he  then  commenced 
working  gyrations  with  his  fingers,  his  thumb  resting  on  the 
apex  of  his  nose,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Aint  you  up  to  gam 
mon  ?"  The  lapidary,  who  is  a  regularly  initiated  member 
of  the  Sawyer's  Company,  was  at  once  "up  to  gammon,"  and 
forthwith  proceeded  to  carry  out  the  intention  of  his  quizzical 
friend. 

"Well,  captain,"  said  the  lapidary,  in  a  very  self-sufficient 
tone,  eyeing  very  critically,  at  the  same  time,  the  pin — "  well, 
captain,  I  can't  perhaps,  exactly  say.  I  have  not  got  my 
microscopic  glass  with  me  just  now;  but  your  pin,  viewing 
it  with  the  naked  eye,  seems  to  be  of  very  pure  water — very 
pure,  indeed!  Let  me  see!  Is  that  a  flaw  I  discover  in  it! 
It  is  !  Ah  ! — no,  no — it  is  not.  Why,  captain,  I  should  have 
no  hesitation  in  giving  $300  for  that  pin  myself." 

"Ah,  yes;  thank  you,"  said  the  captain — "but  I  don't 
mean  to  sell  it."  And  then,  in  a  whisper  to  his  friend  he 


THE  LAPIDARY  AND  THE   SEA-CAPTAIN.  79 

added :  "  Why,  what  do  you  think  a  swindler  in  Chartres 
street  offered  me  for  it  ? — only  ten  dollars  !" 

"Mr.  Lapidary,"  said  the  mutual  friend,  seeing  that  tho 
candid  captain  was  fairly'  caught,  and  wishing  to  enlarge  on 
the  joke — "Mr.  Lapidary,  you  have  a  very  large  collection  of 
stones,  have  you  not  ?" 

u  Why,  yes,  rather  a  large  collection,"  said  the  lapidary, 
tipping  the  end  of  his  cane  against  his  chin — "  rather  large, 
but  not  so  great  a  variety  as  J  could  wish  !" 

"  My  friend,  the  captain  here,"  rejoined  the  wag,  is  quite  an 
amateur  in  your  line :  he  has  a  pretty  extensive  collection  of 
minerals  himself.  I  have  no  doubt  but  he  should  like  to  take 
a  peep  at  your  cabinet."  [u  Here's  a  precious  saw  !"  aside.] 

"Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  said  the  cap 
tain  :  "  indeed  I  make  it  a  point  wherever  I  go  of  seeing  curi 
osities  in  that  way." 

"  Well,  let  me  see,"  said  the  lapidary — "  this  evening, — Oh, 
J  have  made  an  appointment  to  meet  a  gentleman  this  even 
ing; — to-morrow, — to-morrow  evening  I  go  to  the  lake.  Meet 
me  here  at  five  o'clock  on  the  evening  after  to-morrow,  and  I'll 
show  you  my  collection,  such  as  it  is.  As  far  as  quantity  goes, 
I  make  my  boast  of  being  exceeded  by  few  on  this  side  of 
Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  at  least ;  but  it  is  not  for  me,  who 
have  had  the  selection  of  them,  to  speak  of  their  quality" 

The  captain  expressed  a  thousand  thanks  to  the  lapidary 
for  his  politeness,  from  whom  he  parted,  promising  to  be 
punctual  in  his  attendance  at  the  appointed  meeting,  and 
chuckling  in  the  anticipation  of  seeing  on  the  evening  fol 
lowing  the  next,  the  lapidary's  extensive  collection  of  precious 
stones ! 

The  time  of  appointment  came,  and  there  was  the  captain, 
punctual  to  the  minute ;  and  there,  soon  afterwards,  came  the 
lapidary  and  the  friend  of  each.  A  "  How  d'ye  do"  passed  : 
they  liquored,  and  then  proceeded  to  review  the  precious  gems 
of  the  lapidary.  The  course,  as  laid  down  on  the  chart  by 
the  latter,  was  down  towards  the  rear  of  the  city,  through 
Common  street.  They  chatted  on  various  topics  until  they 
came  near  the  Charity  Hospital,  where  a  very  large  heap  of 
paving  stones  occupied  the  centre  of  the  street. 

"  What  a  very  large  heap  of  stones  !"  said  the  lapidary. 

"  Very,"  said  the  captain,  u  but  worth  little  or  nothing :  1 
frequently  bring  them  from  the  east  as  ballast." 

"  What  an  instructive  science  is  geology,"  said  the  lapidary. 


80  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

"Now  I  have  not  a  doubt  but  it  could  be  proved,  by  one  who 
well  understands  it,  that  that  opaque,  speckled  stone  there  is 
the  petrified  egg  of  some  large  antediluvian  bird — a  species  of 
the  American  eagle,  perhaps;  and  there  is  that  one,  of  a  par 
tially  flat  form — that  may  be  of  submarine  origin — a  petrified 
turtle,  for  aught  we  know  !" 

"  O,  it  may  be  an  ossified  Indian  papoose,  for  all  T  care, 
Mr.  Lapidary,"  said  the  captain,  somewhat  pettishly,  who  felt 
annoyed  at  being  kept  so  long  from  seeing  the  rare  cabinet ; 
and  pulling  out  his  watch  he  added,  "  it  is  now  half  past  six 
o'clock,  and  if  you  permit  me  to  see  your  collection  of  pre 
cious  stones,  as  you  promised  to  do,  it  is  time  we  should  see 
them ;  for  I  must  be  back  to  the  ship  in  half  an  hour." 

"  Why,  captain,  my  friend,"  said  the  lapidary,  "  I  don't 
understand  you.  You  requested  that  I  would  show  you  my 
collection  of  stones.  I  told  you  I  would,  remarking  at  the 
same  time  that  1  could  boast  of  their  quantity,  but  would  not 
say  a  word  in  praise  of  their  quality. — You  are  now  looking 
at  them,  and  if  your  curiosity  is  not  fully  gratified,  if  you  take 
a  walk  round  with  me  to  St.  Peter  street,  I  will  show  you  a 
still  larger  heap !" 

"  Then,  these  are  your  collection  of  precious  stones — your 
cabinet  of  jems!"  said  the  captain,  in  a  tone  that  acknowledged 
he  had  been  sawed. 

"  They  are,"  said  the  lapidary. 

"  Enough,"  said  the  captain, "  I'm  hoaxed,  gloriously  hoaxed. 
[  acknowledge  the  corn.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Lapi 
dary,  if  I  ever  find  that  you  tell  the  story  to  man  or  mortal, 
I'll  macadamize — I'll  pulverise  every  bone  in  your  body — I 
will !" 

The  captain  forgot  to  extort  a  pledge  of  secrecy  from  the 
"  mutual  friend"  who  witnessed  the  whole  transaction.  He 
told  it  to  us  as  we  have  told  it  to  our  readers. 

THE  POET  SPOUSE. 

CLEMANTHE  CRIBS  and  Christopher  Cribs  appeared  yester 
day  in  the  police  court  on  the  charge  of  disturbing  the  peace. 
Clemanthe  had  an  air  of  negligent  intellectuality  about  her. 
Her  face  was  angular — her  features  even  sharp  ;  her  eyes  bore 
a  poetic  brightness  ;  she  had  long  fingers  and  a  handsome, 


THE   POET   SPOUSE.  81 

aristocratic  kind  of  hands,  but  they  were  not  very  clean  ;  she 
wore  boots  made  to  lace  at  the  sides,  but  as  she  omitted  to 
lace  them,  they  hung  over  her  ankles  like  a  player's  buskins ; 
her  dress  was  of  faded  black  silk,  with  several  red,  mouldy 
spots  in  it,  and  she  wore  her  bonnet  back  off  her  forehead  in 
an  ill-adjusted  manner. 

Christopher  Cribs  was  a  small,  smooth-faced,  passive-looking 
personage — one  of  those  whom  nature  intended  for  a  member 
of  the  peace  society,  but  whom  chance  at  times  exposes  to 
scenes  of  domestic  disquietude. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs,  Cribs,  as  we  entered  the  court,  "  I  may 
thank  you — you,  you  unfeeling — cruelly  unkind  man  ;  I  may 
thank  you  for  it  all."  And  she  shook  her  parasol  in  Crib's 
face  in  a  manner  indicative  of  revenge,  adding,  in  tones  suitably 
pathetic 

"  This  is  the  deepest  of  my  woes  ; 

For  this  these  tears  my  cheeks  bedew  ; 

This  is  of  love  the  final  close  ; 

Oh,  God,  the  fondest,  last  adieu!" 

"Clemanthe,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Cribs,  in  an  assuaging,  sooth 
ing  tone,  "  be  silent  till  we  leave  this,  or  we'll  be  put  in  the 
papers — perhaps  in  the  calaboose." 

u  Cribs,"  said  Mrs.  C., — "  Cribs,  don't  speak  to  me — don't 
drive  me  mad.  What  do  you  know  about  the  papers  ?  You 
know — you  well  know  that  I  have  contributed  to  the  poet 
ical  department  of  both  the  dailies  and  the  magazines.  Then 
why  would  one  like  you — without  soul,  without  sentiment — 
i>n  whose  mind  no  ray  of  the  Promethean  spark  ever  shed  its 
lustre — who  are  an  utter  stranger  to 

'  The  elegance,  facility  and  golden  cadence  of  poesy — 
Heaven  bred  poesy  !' 

Why  I  ask,  should  you  offer  such  an  insult  to  me  in  a  public 
court  as  to  speak  to  me  of*poetry." 

u  What's  the  matter  with  that  woman?"  said  the  Recorder. 

Policeman. — "  That's  'zactly  the  way  she  was  carry  in'  on 
last  night  when  I  'rested  her — she's  a  screamer,  your  honour, 
1  tell  you." 

Christopher  Cribs,  (with  one  of  his  usual  insinuating  smiles,) 
— "  O,  it  aint  nothin',  your  honour;  it  was  Mrs.  Cribs  here, 
as  was  just  a  talkin'  to  me.  She's  a  werry  good  woman,  sir, 
and  werry  intellectual  and " 

Mrs.  Cribs. — "Cribs,  I  command  you  to  be  silent ;  don't  ex- 
p  se  your  ignorance — don't,  I  say.  Will  the  court  call  on  this 


82  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

illiterate  individual  to  cease  annoying  me  ?  O,  Cribs  !  had  we— 

"  Never  met,  or  had  we  parted, 
1  had  ne'er  been  broken  hearted." 

Recorder. — "  Will  any  one  tell  me  what  this  woman  is  say 
ing  ?" 

Mr.  Cribs. — "Nothin'  in  the  vide  vorld,  your  honour. 
Mrs.  Cribs — Clem,  I  calls  her,  for  love  and  shortness — Clem 
is  one  of  the  most  lovingest  wives  as  I  everknowed  on.  She 
aint  got  no  fault,  but  that  she's  too  fond  of  poetry  books,  and 
instead  of  mindin'  her  waking  babe — little  Tommy,  the  bles- 
sedest  infant  you  ever  seed — she  keeps  writin'  sonnets  to  '  a 
sleepin'  babe ;'  and  t'other  day,  when  I  brought  home  some 
fust  rate  croackers  from  the  lake,  and  told  her  to  dress  them 
for  dinner,  instead  ofdoin'  it  she  sat  down — 'cause  she  said  the 
inspiration  was  on  her — and  she  kegan  writin'  lines  '  To  a  dead 
fish  found  on  the  strand  ;'  and  kept  at  it  till  the  dead  fish  which 
she  might  find  in  the  basket  were  spoiled.  Well,  I  s'pose  the 
poetry  on  the  dead  fish  was  all  very  good,  for  Clem  said  it 
was ;  but  I'd  be  a  better  judge  of  the  fish  in  the  basket,  if  she 
had  done  them  up  for  my  dinner,  instead  of  doin'  up  the  poe 
try.  When  I  told  her  I  was  gettin'  right  hungry,  she  says, 
says  she,  '  Cribs,  have  patience,  you  woracious  wagabond ; 
you  see  I'm  preparin'  an  intellectual  feast.'  Yes,  said  I,  but 
Clem,  my  love,  it'll  be  a  feast  arter  a  famine,  for  I'm  right 
hungry  now.  It  won't  be  the  feast  of  reason,  neither,  for  there 
aint  no  reason  in  fastin'  for  the  sake  of  poetry." 

"Cribs,"  said  Mrs.  C.,  her  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling— - 
"  Cribs,  you're  an  ingrate — a  deceiver — a  false  one  !  You 
knew  when  you  plighted  to  me  your  eternal  truth  and  undy 
ing  constancy — you  knew  my  passion  for  poetry,  my  love  of 
literature,  my  admiration  for  the  romantic; — but  'tis  over! — 

"  The  charm  is  broken  !   Once  betrayed, 
Oh,  never  can  my  heart  rely 
On  word  or  look,  on  oath  or  sigh ! 
Take  back  the  gifts,  so  sweetly  giv'n 
With  promis'd  faith  and  vows  to  Heav'n." 

Recorder. — "O,  I  cannot  be  annoyed  with  this  poetical 
woman  and  her  fish-fond  husband.  Send  them  out  of  the 
court,  and  if  brought  up  here  again  they  shall  find  bail  that 
they  will  not  in  future  disturb  the  neighbourhood  in  which 
they  live." 

Cribs  left  the  office,  supplicating  the  amiable  Mrs.  C.  for 
orgiveness,  which  she  seemed  very  adverse  to  granting. 


83 


RECORDER'S  COURT. 

TWO    OF    A    TRADE    CAN    NEVER    AGREE. 

WE  witnessed  a  lucitl  illustration  of  this  argument  in  the 
court  of  Recorder  Baldwin  yesterday.  While  standing  at  the 
door,  on  St.  Charles  street,  waiting  for  the  opening  of  the  court, 
we  saw  two  men  in  hot  haste,  making  tracks  for  the  police 
office.  Here,  thought  we,  here  is  not  one,  but  here  are  two 
heroes  for  our  next  morning's  report — for  we  look  out  for  a 
"  character"  with  as  much  anxiety,  almost,  but  not  quite,  as  a 
merchant  looks  out  for  his  ships  at  sea — as  a  stock  jobber 
looks  out  for  a  fall  or  a  rise  in  the  funds — as  an  olcTmaid  looks 
out  for  some  one  to"  pop  the  question,"  or  as  a  political  editor 
looks  out  for  "glorious  victories." 

Jn  the  distance  we  could  not  see,  "  precisely,"  what  they 
were  ;  though  as  they  approached  we  felt  we  could  not  be  mis 
taken  in  putting  them  down  for  a  pair  of  wood-sawyers.  One 
carried  his  saw  slung  on  his  arm, and  the  other  had  his  "horse" 
mounted  on  his  shoulder.  At  a  first  glance  they  looked  like 
wandering  minstrels ;  the  saw  on  No.  One  seemed 

"  Like  his  wild  harp  slung  behind  him  ;" 

and  the  "  horse"  on  the  shoulder  of  the  other,  like  a  hand  organ. 

So  far  as  the  look  of  the  outer-man  was  concerned,  they 
were  as  like  one  another  as  the  Siamese  twins,  or  two  plaster 
of  Paris  castings  of  Bonaparte ;  with  this  single  exception, 
that  the  two  legs  of  one  of  them  were  not  of  equal  longitude — 
his  life  seemed  a  succession  of  ups  and  downs. 

They  unburdened  themselves  of  their  "  plunder"  outside 
the  office  door,  and  boldly  made  their  way  up  to  the  bench. 

'*  I  vants  a  varrant  for  this  'ere  indiwidual,"  said  he  with 
the  short  leg  and  the  long  one. 

"  Yes,  and  please  your  honour,"  said  the  other,  who  stood 
on  equal  footing  with  himself,  at  least,  "  I  shall  lodge  hexam- 
inations  agin  this  'ere  feller." 

The  Recorder  actuated  by  that  fair-play-principle  which 
distinguishes  him  as  a  magistrate,  said  he  was  prepared  to  hear 
both  sides  of  the  story,  and  bade  the  man  with  the  imperfect 
^understanding  to  proceed. 


84  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

"  First,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  what  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Thomas,  sir,  Jim  Thomas,  but  folks  calls  me  Hop  and  Go 
Constantly  way  of  a  rig — itaint  my  name  though,''  said  the 
odd  legged  man. 

"  And  yours,  sir,"  said  the  Recorder,  to  the  other. 

"  George  Villiams,  sir,"  said  the  other ;  "  and  I  haint  got  no 
title  'cause  as  how  it  aint  democratic." 

"  Let  us  hear  your  story  first,  Thomas,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Hop  and  Go  Constant,  u  I'll  tell  the  whole 
truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth  :  Veil,  your  honour  sees,  1 
ha'  follered  this  here  purfession  of  wood  sawin'  for  a  long 
time,  and  I  understands  the  business  in  all  its  branches.  This 
here  feller  is  but  a  new  hand,  and  besides,  he  haint  got  no 
genius.  'Stead  of  learnin'  to  set  his  saw,  he  has  made  a  dead 
set  at  my  reg'lar  business ;  he  goes  round  to  my  customers, 
your  honour,  and  he  circumwents  me." 

"  But  has  he  assaulted  you  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Yes,  sir-r,"  said  Jim  Thomas,  "  and  he  knocked  out  three 
of  my  teeth  yesterday."  . 

"  Why,  that  is  battery,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  according  to 
our  statutes ;  but  I  can't  perceive  that  your  mouth  is  much 
disfigured  by  the  blow,  nor  do  I  see  the  vacuum  which  the 
three  knocked  out  teeth  have  left." 

u  Why  bless  your  hinnocent  heys,"  said  Thomas,"  it  warn't 
out  of  my  mouth,  but.  out  of  my  saw  that  he  knocked  the  three 
teeth,  and  I  have  it  outside  to  prove  the  fact.  I  thinks  myself, 
the  offence  is  burglary  in  the  second  degree." 

"  Silence,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  you  have  gone  quite  far 
enough.  What  have  you  to  say  to  this,  Williams  ?"  he  asked 
of  the  man  whose  legs,  instead  of  being  like  two  sides  of  an 
irregular  triangle,  were  like  two  sides  of  a  square. 

"  Veil,  I  haint  nothin'  to  say  but  this  here,"  said  Williams ; 
"  that  I  rests  my  defence  altogether  on  constitutional  grounds. 
In  the  first  place,  ven  I  saws  vood  no  man  cant  interfere  vith 
me,  'cause  I'm  in  the  pursuit  o'  happiness ;  and,  moreover,  I 
thinks  free  trade  and  wood-sawyers'  rights,  is  as  much  a  con 
stitutional  question  as  free  trade  and  sailors'  rights,  about  vich 
folks  makes  such  a  muss.  Vy,  I  asks,  should  there  be  mo 
nopoly  in  wook-sawin'  ?  .  Dont  competition  benefit  every 
business  ?  I'm  blow'd  if  I'll  be  put  down  by  that  'ere  man  ; 
that's  all  about  it." 

"  That  is  enough  about  it,"  said  the  Recorder;  "  and  as  for 
you,"  he  said,  addressing  the  lame  man,  "  because  you  charge 


RECORDER'S  COURT.  85 

this  man  with  breaking  the  teeth  of  your  saw,  you  come  to  a 
lame  and  impotent  conclusion  when  you  think  you  can  sue 
him  for  an  assault.  To  maintain  such  a  charge  you  should 
prove  personal  violence.  You  may  both  go.1' 

They  left  the  office.  The  man  not  fully  initiated  in  the 
mysteries  of  wood-sawing,  seeming  to  regard  the  decision  of 
the  court  as  a  great  triumph.  The  lame  man's  short  leg  seemed 
shorter  and  his  long  leg  longer  than  usual. 


A  SERENADED 

CHRISTOPHER    CRAMER  AND    HIS    CREMONA. 

AMONG  the  cases  brought  up  Saturday  before  the  Recorder, 
was  Christopher  Cramer — an  old  rusty  fiddle  was  under  his 
arm,  and  a  bow,  which  had  lost  much  of  its  original  tension, 
was  insinuated  between  its  strings.  Christopher's  dress  was 
superlatively  shabby ;  his  jaws  were  thin  and  attenuated ;  his 
nose  was  pimply  and  purple  ;  he  was  of  the  lamp-post  shape, 
or  rather  of  no  shape  at  all ;  and  his  fingers  were  as  fleshless 
and  long  as  if  they  had  undergone  an  anatomical  operation. 
He  seemed  to  be — as  he  was- — a  specimen  of  Paginini-ism  done 
up  on  loafer  principles ;  and  his  face,  which  was  covered  with 
scratches,  looked  like  a  gamut  written  with  red  ink. 

"  Christopher  Cramer  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

Christopher,  whose  spirits  seemed  sunk  too  low,  was  so  ab 
sorbed  in  thought  that  he  heeded  not  the  authorative  voice  of 
the  judicial  functionary  on  the  bench,  but  kept  gazing  on  his 
fiddle,  which  was  placed  on  his  knees,  with  all  the  apparent 
affection  with  which  a  parent  looks  on  an  only  child  fading 
away  from  life  under  the  corroding  influence  of  a  consumption. 

u  Your  case  is  called  on,"  said  a  policeman,  stirring  up  Chris 
topher  with  his  short  pole — "  your  case  is  called  on." 

u  Ah,  I've  lost  my  case,"  said  Cramer,  "  and  I  thought  as 
much  of  it  as  I  do  of  my  fiddle  itself — my  name  was  on  it, 
C.  C.,  done  in  brass  nails." 

"  You  were  found  disturbing  the  peace  last  night,"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"  There  is  a  discord  between  the  charge  and  the  fact,  may 
it  please  the  court,"  said  Cramer ;  "  of  nothing  was  I  guilty 
but 

"  Peace  and  gentle  visitation." 


86  PICKINGS   FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

"  Why,  your  honour,"  said  a  watchman,  "he  says  as  how 
I  cracked  his  fiddle ;  but  blow  me  if  1  don't  think  its  his  own 
head  that's  cracked — you  should  ha'  seen  the  shines  he  cut 
up  in  Burgundy  street  last  night.  lie  called  it  a  sur-in-aid  ; 
but  folks  didn't  like  such  aid  thereabouts — I  know  they  didn't 
— 'cause  they  all  calls  on  me,  and  tells  me  to  take  him  to  the 
vatchhouse  ;  von  young  'oman  puts  her  head  out  of  a  two 
story  vinder,  and  she  hollers  to  me — '  Vatchman  !  you  take 
that  'ere  feller  to  the  vatchhouse ;  he  comes  here  a  cutting  up 
these  here  didos  every  night — he's  a  wagrant,  and  we  don't 
know  nothin'  about  him.' " 

Recorder. — "  What  brought  you,  sir,  to  disturb  a  peaceable 
neighbour  at  that  time  of  night  ?  I  am  told  by  the  watchman 
it  was  one  o'clock." 

Christopher. — [Waving  his  right  arm  like  a  stump  orator 
speaking  of  the  constitution] — "Because  I  have  sworn  it;  and 

'  Not  for  all  the  sun  sees,  or 
The  close  earth  wombs,  or  the  profound  seas  hide 
In  unknown  fathoms,  will  I  break  my  oath 
To  her,  my  fair  beloved  !'  " 

Watchman. — "  That's  the  vay  he's  alvays  a  goin'  on.  You 
ought  to've  heerd  him  a  singin' 

'  Vake,  lady,  vake  !' 

last  night,  and  play  it  on  the  fiddle  at  the  same  time  !  Vy,  he's 
death  on  catgut,  and  a  reg'lar  vind  instrument !  His  notes  is 
higher  than  any  of  the  sol  went  banks ! — he's  a  perfect 
roarer !" 

Recorder. — "  You  will  have  to  find  bail  to  keep  the  peace, 
unless  you  promise  to  give  up  your  serenading." 

Christopher. — "To  do  so  would  jar  with  the  vow  I  have 
taken  and  create  a  discord  in  the  sounds  of  my  soul's  feelings  ; 
besides — 

'  I  am  advised  to  give  her  music  o'  mornings  : 
They  say  it  will  penetrate.'  " 

"Take  him  off,"  said  the  Recorder,  "until  he  finds  the  ne 
cessary  bail." 

*.  In  a  moment  a  policeman  grasped  Christopher  by  the  arm, 
and  Christopher  grasped  his  fiddle  by  the  neck,  displaying 
thereby  a  wonderful  instance  ofjiddle-hyl 


"  LAY    ON,  MICK    DUFF  !"  87 


"LAY  ON,  MICK  DUFF!"     • 

MICHAEL  DUFF  and  Tom  Crowley  were  yesterday  brought 
before  the  Recorder,  for  practically  illustrating  their  bellicose 
propensities  on  the  Levee,  contrary  to  the  statute  in  that  case 
made  and  provided,  and  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  state. 

Tom  Tanner,  a  witness  who  was  present,  put  the  court  in 
possession  of  the  terms  and  conditions  of  the  fight.  The 
weapons  were  fists ;  they  stood  at  striking  distance,  and  as 
much  nearer  as  they  could  clutch  one  another.  The  battle 
was  to  be  fought  on  the  knock-down  and  drag-out  principle, 
agreeably  to  the  "  sports  of  the  ring,"  as  laid  down  in  the 
Kentucky  code. 

"  Who  was  the  aggressor  ?"  said  the  Recorder  to  the  wit 
ness,  Tanner. 

"  Why,  Crowley  was,  of  coorse,"  said  Tanner  :  "  he  chal 
lenged  Mick,  and  wouldn't  give  him  pace  noraze  till  he  fought 
him." 

"Well,  and  what  did  you  say?"  inquired  the  Recorder. 
"  Did  you  endeavour  to  make  peace  ?" 

"  I  did  no  such  thing,  yer  anour,"  said  Tanner,  "  for  I  seed 
Tom  was  itchin'  for  a  batin',  and  I  was  detarmined  to  let  him 
have  it ;  so,  as  soon  as  iver  I  seed  Mick  square  at  him,  I  said, 
as  our  counthryman  Moore,  the  beautiful  dramatic  poet  of  na 
ture,  ilegantly  expresses  it : — 

'  Whoo  !  lay  on  Mick  Duff! 

Pitch  into  Crowley  till  he  cries  enough  /' 

And  so  he  did,  yer  anour — as  beautiful  as  if  he  tuck  lessons 
from  O'Rourke  or  deaf  Burke  himself!" 

They  were  all -fined  for  disturbing  the  peace,  and  discharged. 


DOMESTIC  DIFFCULTIES. 

OR,  THE  ONE  WOMAN  POWER. 

"  WHAT,  here  again  this  morning,  Jemmy?"  said  the  Re 
corder  yesterday,  to  a  withered  looking  little  specimen  of  mor 
tality  who  stood  before  him,  and  with  whom  official  intimacy 


88  PlCKIiNGS   FROM   THE  u  PICAYUNE." 

appeared  to  have  made  him  quite  familiar. — u  What's  the  mat 
ter  now  ?" 

uThe  old  story,  your  honour,"  said  Jemmy.  "The  old 
woman  heft" — and  he  trembled  with  fear  as  he  finished  the 
sentence — "  was  kicking  up  her  shines  last  night  again." 

The  "  old  woman  here"  to  whom  Jemmy  referred  was  a 
smirking,  masculine  looking  young  woman,  with  the  word 
virago  written  in  legible  letters  upon  her  features.  When 
Jemmy  made  this  "complimentary"  allusion  to  her,  she  gave 
him  a  look  that  seemed  to  operate  on  his  nervous  system  like 
a  shock  from  a  galvanic  battery;  and  then,  assuming  a  mild 
look  of  forbearance,  she  turned  to  the  Recorder,  and  in  a  sub 
dued  tone  of  voice  assured  his  honour  that  "there  was  no 
living  with  Jemmy  Galvin,  he  carried  on  so!" 

"  Why,  Galvin,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  it  is  not  more  than  a 
week  ago  since  I  bound  you  over  to  keep  the  peace  to  your  wife!" 

"  I  know  it's  not,"  said  Jemmy,  "  but  when  you  bound  me 
over  your  honour  missed  a  figure — you  took  the  wrong  pig 
by  the  ear,  as  they  say  in  Ohio— it's  the  old  woman  here  you 
should  have  kept  from  doing  mischief;  she's  the  head  and 
front,  soul  and  body,  shoes  and  stockings  of  offending." 

"  O,"  says  Mrs.  G.,  putting  a  white  pocket  handkerchief  up 
to  her  eyes,  and  first  looking  vinegar  at  Jemmy  and  then 
looking  tears  and  treacle  at  the  Recorder,  "  O,  I'm  a  miserable 
woman  !  an  ill  used  woman !  I  calls  for  the  protection  of  the 
court  from  the  wiolence  of  that  man !"  and  here  Mrs.  G. 
seemed  affected  even  to  false  tears. 

"  Are  not  you  a  pretty  fellow,"  said  the  Recorder  to  Jemmy, 
u  to  treat  your  wife  in  this  manner— to  act  with  violence  and 
unkindness  to  one  whom  you  should  protect  and  cherish  ?" 

"  O,  bless  your  hinnocent  heyes,"  said  Jemmy, "  you  does'nt 
know  that  ere  woman ;  them  aint  tears ;  nor  she  aint  crying 
now ;  it's  all  hactin',  your  honour.  You  should  see  her  last 
night  when  we  were  taken  up  by  the  watch ;  the  way  she  did 
pitch  into  me  was  a  caution  to  the  feller  they  called  the  Liverpool 
pet,  wot  taught  the  art  of  boxing  here  on  scientific  principles." 

The  watchman  was  here  called  upon,  and  corroborated  to 
a  considerable  extent  the  allegations  of  Mr.  G.  relative  to  the 
pugilistic  prowess  of  Mrs.  Galvin. 

"  Is  there  no  possibility  of  both  of  you  living  together,"  said 
the  Recorder,  "  in  more  harmony  ?" 

"  I  don't  see  none,"  said  Jemmy,  "  I've  tried  every  thing  to 
please  her,  but  it  aint  no  use ;  she  scolds  me  and  abuses  me 


A   SCOTCH  FEE-LOSOPHER.  89 


for  every  thing  I  says,  and  every  thing  I  does.  They  may 
talk  of  John  Tyler's  vetoes,  but  he  aint  no  circumstance  in 
obstinacy  to  my  wife.  If  I  asks  her  to  go  to  the  lake  with 
me  she  won't  corne ;  if  I  asks  her  to  go  to  Carrollton  or  to  the 
Tivoli  theatre,  she  won't  come ;  if  I  asks  her  to  make  coffee 
for  breakfast,  she  is  sure  to  have  tea;  and  if  I  takes  a  liking  to 
fish  and  tells  her  to  prepare  some  for  dinner,  she  inwariably 
dresses  meet  and  wegetables.  In  fact,  your  honour,  it's  veto 
and  ditto  veto,  all  the  year  round." 

Mrs.  G.  said  not  a  word,  but  seemed  "  nursing  her  wrath  to 
keep  it  warm." 

Jemmy  continued :  "  It's  very  well  for  politicians  to  speak 
of  the  danger  of  the  '  one  man  power;'  but  if  they  lived  as  long 
as  I  have  with  Mrs.  Galvin,  they'd  know  something  I  guess 
about  the  danger  of  the  one  woman  power.  I  tell  you,  when 
I  thinks  of  it,  I  trembles  for  my  constitution." 

The  Recorder  having,  it  appears,  previously  bound  Mr. 
Galvin  to  keep  the  peace,  now  made  Mrs.  G.  enter  into  her 
recognisances,  and  then  permitted  them  to  return  home  to 
enjoy  again  the  delights  of  domestic  felicity  ! 


A  S-COTCH  FEE-LOSOPHER. 

JAMES  BURNS,  who  comes  from  the  "land  o'  cakes,"  and 
may  be,  for  aught  we  know  to  the  contrary,  a  lineal  descend 
ant  of  the  Ayrshire  bard,  who  was  himself  so  honest  that 

*'  He  wad  na  cheat  the  vera  de^il !" 

was  arrested  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Public  Square  on 
Wednesday  evening.  He  was  engaged  in  haranguing  a  la 
Prophet  Munday,  a  promiscuous  crowd.  But  in  almost  every 
thing  he  was  the  antipodes  of  the  prophet.  The  prophet 
wears  no  hat — he  wore  a  shocking  bad  one;  the  prophet 
does  not  shave  his  chin — Jim  shaves  his  whole  face,  when  he 
can  get  a  barber  to  credit  him ;  the  prophet  is  sharp  and 
acute-looking — Jim  looks  like  a  "daft"  man;  the  prophet  is 
short — Jim  is  tall;  the  prophet,  speaks  sense — Jim  Burns 
talks  nonsense  ; — Jim's  theme  was  "education — its  ill  effects  ;" 
and  in  this  it  may  be  perceived  that  he  not  only  takes  ground 
against  the  great  thinkers  of  his  own  country,  but  also  against 
those  of  this.  "  A'  the  evils,"  we  could  hear  Jim  say  as  we 


90  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

approached  him,  u  a'  the  evils,  ma  freens,  that  affleect  the 
coontry  proceed  fra  superaboondant  eedication ;  the  vera  boys 
ken  mair  no$ — muckle  mair — than  oor  grandfathers  did  een 
when  their  locks,  as  the  song  says  o'  John  Anderson's. 
war  white  as  the  snaw.  I  teel  ye  again,  ma  freens,"  said  Jirn, 
"  that  this  thing  o'  eedication  is  like  a  Scootch  broadsword,  an 
unco  dangerous  weepon  in  the  hands  o1  them  as  dinna  ken 
the  way  to  use  it.  Withoot  the  genius  it's  like  a  haggis  with 
out  the  eengredients ;  and  wi1  it,  it  is  a'  togitfier  like  a  breeks 
to  a  Highlander — a  superfluous  article.  As  my  namesake  Bob 
used  to  say — 

'  Gi'e  me  a  spark  o'  Nature's  fire, 
That's  a'  the  laming  I  desire.'  " 

"  O,"  said  the  watchman,  coming  up,  "  I'll  give  you  a  night 
in  the  calaboose." 

"  Why,  mon,"  said  Jim,  "  this  is  a  free  coontry,  and  I'm 
only  geein'  expression  to  my  seentiments." 

"Yes,  you  is  a-breakin'  the  ordinance  in  favour  of  public 
education,"  said  the  watchman — u  I  knows  you  is  ;"  and  so 
he  took  off  this  Scotch  philosopher  of  the  new  school — a 
circumstance  which  seemed  to  edify  his  auditors  just  as  much 
as  his  dissertation  on,  or  rather  against,  education  did. 


AN  ATTEMPT  TO  SHAV^E  A  SHAVER. 

A  LITTLE  Frenchman,  whose  hair  stood  on  an  end  a  la  Jack 
son,  with  short  legs  and  large  calves,  kicked  up  almost  as  great  a 
fuss  in  Recorder  Baldwin's  court  yesterday,  as  Louis  Napoleon 
did  recently  in  Bologne.  His  nose  was  as  sharp  as  a  razor, 
and  his  face  was  as  white  from  powder  as  if  it  were  newly 
lathered.  A  large  frill  struck  perpendicularly  out  from  his 
bosom  like  an  open  oblong  fan,  and  a  large  circular  snuff  box 
resembling  the  Grand  Humbug  Real  Estate  Lottery  Wheel, 
protruded  from  his  vest  pocket. 

"You  shave  me,  I  shave  you,  eh?  sacre  !  one  great  impos 
ture,"  said  the  Frenchman,  pulling  his  snuff  box  hurriedly  from 
his  vest  pocket,  giving  it  a  wicked  crack  of  his  open  hand  on 
the  lid,  and  raising  a  large  pinch  of  the  pungent  powder  to  his 
nose  between  his  two  ringers  and  thumb,  he  snuffed  up  the 
lesser  portion  of  it,  the  greater  he  let  fall  on  his  frill.  "  You 
shave  me,  I  shave  you,  eh  ?"  again  he  repeated  with  a* 


AN  ATTEMPT  TO  SHAVE  A  SHAVER.  91 

much  apparent  assurance  of  success  in  the  suit  he  was  about 
to  engage  in,  as  a  politician  speaks  of  the  election  of  his  fa 
vourite  presidential  candidate — "  By  gar,  sare,  I  shall  let  you  see 
by  de  law  whethare  you  shave  me  for  J  shave  you,  eh  ?" 
This  was  addressed  to  a  man  who,  if  he  was  not  a  worn  out 
blackleg,  looked  extremely  like  one — and  notwithstanding  the 
little  Frenchman's  tempestuous  passion,  retained  the  most  placid 
equanimity  of  temper. 

"  Have  you  any  charge  to  make,  sir  ?"  said  the  Recorder  to 
the  little  Frenchman. 

''•By  gar,  Monsieur  Judge,"  said  the  little  Frenchman,"! 
have  one  twelve  month  charge  to  make  against  dis  dere 
robbere." 

"  If  you  bring  it  before  this  court,"  said  the  Recorder,  "you 
will  have  to  make  it  brief.  I  cannot  occupy  myself  in  hearing 
a  twelve  months'  charge  from  you." 

"  Pardonnez  moi,  Monsieur  Judge,  you  no  comprehend.  I 
am  de  one  grand  barbere,  freezuer  and  perruguier  from  Paree  ; 
dis  man  comes  to  my  emporium  of  fashion  and  he  says,  what 
you  pay  me — no,  sacre  pay — what  you  charge  me,  he  says, 
for  bartering — for  shave  me,  you  call  it,  and  cut  my  hair,  for 
one  year  ?  I  do  it,  I  said,  and  give  your  whiskers  de  grand 
Paree  curl  for  tirty  dollar,  but  you  pay  me  cash  down — not  no 
credit  system  for  me,  nevare." 

"  Well,  did  he  comply  with  your  terms  ?"  said  the  Re 
corder. 

"Not  one  time,  he  no  paid  me  at  all,"  said  the  Frenchman — 
"  I  now  shave  him  one  month  and  give  his  hair  de  fashionable 
cut  and  de  finish  off  wid  de  bear's  grease,  and  he  nevare  paid 
me  one  cent.  Sacre!  he  be  one  grand  wat  you  call — humbug 
— one  shaver  what  don't  be  barbers  you  know,  but  wat  live  by 
shaving  barbers  and  oder  gentlemens.  Sacre !  when  I  ask  him 
for  my  tirty  dollar  dis  vera  mornin',  he  give  me  tree  ten  dollar 
bills  of  de  fallen  in  Brandon  Bank,  and  he  say  they  be  good  as 
silvare  next  year.  Man  Dieu  !  Mon  Dieu  !  they  will  nevare 
be  no  good  till  de  whole  world  break  up  in  one  smash! 
What  you  say  to  dat,  Monsieur  Judge  ?"  continued  the  little 
Frenchman,  anxious  to  draw  from  the  Recorder  his  opinion 
of  the  man  who  could  have  the  effrontery  to  offer  a  Parisian 
barber  $30  in  Brandon  money  for  cutting  his  hair  and  shaving 
him  for  twelve  months,  and  giving  his  whiskers  the  grand 
curl — "  wat  you  say  do  dat,  Monsieur  Judge,  eh  ?" 

"  Why,  I  say  that  it  was  any  thing  but  a  legal  tender,"  said 


92  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

the  Judge,  "  and  the  very  worst  representative  of  a  specie 
currency  which  he  could  offer  you." 

"  I  shave  him,  he  want  shave  me,"  said  the  Frenchman,  taking 
another  large  pinch  of  snuff. 

The  defendant  was  now  called  on  to  state  what  he  had  to 
say  to  the  charge  made  against  him.  He  admitted  a  part  and 
denied  a  part.  It  was  true,  he  said,  that  the  Frenchman  had 
shaved  him  for  a  month,  powdered  his  face,  cut  his  hair, 
rubbed  in  the  bear's  grease,  till  he  thought  the  hair  of  his  head 
would  be  mistaken  for  a  grenadier's  cap,  it  grew  so  strong, 
and  he  took  excessive  pains  to  curl  his  whiskers ;  but  he  em 
phatically  denied  offering  to  remunerate  him  with  Brandon 
money.  He  merely  pulled  it  out,  he  said,  to  show  what  a 
loss  he  sustained  as  a  holder  of  it;  and  in  proof  that  he  did 
not  do  it  as  a  fraud,  he  now  offered  to  pay  the  barber  in  good 
and  current  Second  Municipality  bills  for  his  services. 

The  proposition  was  accepted — the  Frenchman's  demand 
was  liquidated,  and  he  left  the  office  snuffitig  his  snuff,  and 
saying  in  triumph  to  the  defendant — "-By  gar,  1  can  shave  you, 
but  you  can  no  shave  me,  not  no  how — ha!  ha!" 


A  SMALL  TEA  PARTY. 

SHOWING    THE    CONNECTION    BETWEEN     SCANDAL    AND 
SOUCHONG. 

'TWAS  eve.  The  sun  tinged  the  west  with  a  golden  glow ; 
a  light,  gossamer  veil,  which  undulated  in  the  breeze,  carpeted 
the  earth ;  the  sapless  tree  leaves  rustled  as  some  feathered 
gallant  flew  from  branch  to  branch  in  quest  of  his  mate,  and 
echoes  mellowed  down  by  distance  breathed  on  the  air  softly 
and  sweetly  as  a  lover's  wooings.  This  may  be  called  a  very 
poetical  prelude  to  a  very  anti-poetical  sketch.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  it  was  at  the  time  described  above,  that  Miss  Jones, 
on  Sunday  evening  last,  paid  her  usual  weekly  visit  to  the 
Misses  Jenkins.  The  Misses  Jenkins,  to  use  their  own  fa 
vourite  phrase,  are  "very  peculiar— remarkably  peculiar" 
people,  and  Miss  Jones,  by  some  secret  sympathy  of  nature, 
is  just  as  peculiar  as  they  are.  The  Misses  Jenkins  don't 
keep  a  house,  but  they  rent  apartments,  and  follow  the  fancy- 
dress  making  business;  Miss  Jones  is  in  the  bonnet  line, 
and  boards  out.  The  consequence  is,  that  Miss  Jones  calls 


A   SMALL  TEA  PARTY.  93 

oftener  to  see  the  Misses  Jenkins  than  the  Misses  Jenkins  do 
to  see  Miss  Jones ;  and  the  further%ffect  of  this  state  of  things 
is,  that  Miss  Jones  drinks  more  of  the  Misses  Jenkins's  tea 
than  they  do  of  hers. — This  leaves  the  balance  of  trade  in 
favour  of  the  Misses  Jenkins,  and  as  individuals,  like  nations, 
feel  a  jealousy  for  their  interests  when  they  begin  to  find  out 
that  they  give  more  than  they  receive,  they  sometimes  put  a 
protective  tariff  on  their  evening  beverage  by  closing  the  front 
doors  and  window  shutters,  and  reporting  themselves,  through 
the  coloured  Abigail,  "  not  at  home."  Such  a  report  was  about 
to  be  made  on  Sunday  evening.  But,  as  Burns  says, 

"  The  best  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men 
Gang  aft  aglt-y." 

So  say  we,  do  often  the  plans  and  projects  of  women.  Miss 
Jones  was  not  to  be  "not  at  home'd"  by  the  servant;  so 
passing  her,  and  going  to  the  inner  room,  she  found  both  the 
Misses  Jenkins  there  asleep,  of  course.  She  soon  applied  to 
them  the  reverse  passes,  as  a  mesmeriser  would  say,  and  woke 
them  up.— They  were  so  glad  to  see  Miss  Jones,  and  so  angry 
with  the  servant  for  reporting  them  not  at  home,  when  they 
distinctly  told  her  thtfy  were  always  at  home  to  Miss  Jones 
but  never  to  Miss  Fitzfry ;  and  they  would  have  been  so 
lonesome,  too,  if  she  had  not  come,  and  she  was  such  good  com 
pany.  After  a  mutual  interchange  of  such  compliments,  they 
adjourned  to  the  front  room,  where  the  buttered  toast  was  on  the 
table,  and  the  tea  was  undergoing  the  progress  of  abstraction. 
But  before  we  place  them  behind  their  favourite  beverage,  let  us 
take  a  look  at  Miss  Jones,  her  conjoint  hostesses,  and  their 
front  room.  Miss  Jones  was — but  a  woman's  age  is  not  to 
be  spoken  of;  she  had  a  cock-up  nose,  something  like  the 
lower  half  of  the  letter  S,  a  wiry  sort  of  face,  and  a  tall,  atten 
uated  form,  that  was  uniform  in  its  want  of  fulness  from 
the  ankles  to  the  ears.  The  Misses  Jenkins  were  a  pair  of 
Siamese  twins,  so  far  as  mutual  resemblance,  thoughts  and 
tastes  went.  They  were  low  of  stature,  with  faces  that  plainly 
bespoke  an  irascible  temper.  The  room  in  which  they  had 
assembled  might  be,  and  we  believe  was,  some  fifteen  feet  by 
twelve  in  diameter.  The  walls  were  ornamented  with  coloured 
plates  of  the  fashions,  cut  from  the  monthly  magazines.  A 
sofa,  from  which  the  curled  hair  was  protruding,  had  its  place 
opposite  the  grate ;  a  ricketty  arm  chair  undulated  near  the 
fonder;  a  small  table,  which  contained  the  tea  equipage,  stood 


94  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  UPICAYL'NE.W 

near  the  centre,  arid  som£  half  dozen  ordinary  chairs — very 
ordinary  ones — filled  up  the  intermediate  space  round  the 
room.  Miss  Jenkins,  the  elder,  did  the  honours  of  the  table. 
Before  pouring  out  the  tea,  she  indulged  in  a  dissertation  on 
the  injurious  effects  which  strong  narcotics  have  on  the  nervous 
system,  and  to  prove  that  she  practised  what  she  preached — 
that  her  practice  was  in  consonance  with  her  theory — she 
proceeded  to  pour  out  the  beverage,  which  looked,  as  it 
streamed  from  the  pot,  and  as  it  proved  to  be,  a  most  neutral 
concoction,  which,  if  analyzed,  would  be  found  to  contain 
one  part  of  tea  and  ninety-nine  parts  of  boiling  water.  The 
toast  was  but  lightly  buttered,  but  that  the  fair  hostess  ac 
counted  for  by  saying  there  was  no  Goshen  in  the  market, 
and  who  could  use  any  thing  else ;  and  if  the  brown  sugar 
was  too  soft,  it  was  accounted  for  by  the  rain's  being  too  hard 
in  Cuba.  They  commenced  operations,  however,  and  other 
themes  than  the  strength  of  the  tea  or  the  rancid  taste  of  the 
butter  engrossed  their  attention.  It  is  strange,  but  yet  a  fact, 
and  one  for  which  philosophers  have  never  accounted,  that 
drinking  tea  begets  a  desire  to  talk  of  one's  neighbours.  The 
trio  of  ladies  in  question,  not  being  of  course  exempt  from  the 
general  influences  that  operate  on  our*  nature,  were  suddenly 
inoculated  with  the  cacoethes  loquendi.  Miss  Jones  had  seen 
the  Misses  Riptons  return  from  church,  and  such  frights  of 
bonnets  as  they  wore.  She  noticed  for  the  first  time  that 
Maria  squints  most  ruefully,  and  that  Martha  turns  in  her  toes 
when  she  walks,  like  a  shoemaker.  Miss  Jenkins,  the  elder, 
never  liked  to  speak  of  people  behind  their  backs  ;  she  had  an 
utter  aversion  to  the  practice,  and  believed  that  was  the  reason 
she  hated  Miss  Smith,  who  had  such  an  awful  habit  of  speak 
ing  of  people  in  their  absence.  She  could  not  avoid  saying  to 
Miss  Jones  in  confidence,  however,  that  there  were  some  most 
scandalous  stories  afloat  about  Maria  Ripton  ;  and  one  of  them 
was  that  she  was  seen  going  down  to  the  lake  late  one  evening 
with  Dick  Fitwell,  the  tailor — and  another  that  she  takes  gin 
in  her  lemonade.  She  herself  did  not  believe  a  word  of  these 
slanders,  and  would  enjoin  Miss  Jones  not  to  repeat  them,  ex 
cept  in  a  confidential  manner  and  to  a  particular  friend. 

Miss  Jones  pledged  herself  never  to  open  her  lips  on  the 
subject — unless  it  was  as  a  secret.  It  seemed  almost  incredible, 
and  still  she  was  inclined  to  believe  it ;  some  young  women 
do  such  strange  things  now-a-days. — There  was  Miss  Hartwell, 
didn't  she  borrow  Miss  Meldon's  dress  to  go  to  the  ball  last 


NED  BROWN,  DONE   BROWN.  1)5 

week,  and  actually  had  the  assurance  to  send%it  home  without 
washing  it ! 

"Did  you  ever!"  said  the  two  Miss  Jenkins  in  concert,  and 
Miss  Jones  echoed  "  never  !"  and  so  they  went  on,  commencing 
with  Miss  Ripton,  and  going  through  the  whole  circle  of  their 
acquaintance,  whose  peculiarities  and  peccadilloes  they  dis 
sected  and  bisected — canvassed  and  criticised — till  after  the 
miniature  alembic  on  the  table  refused  to  disgorge  any  more  of 
its  liquid  beverage 

When  they  had  got  through  with  their  tea  and  tired  with 
their  talk,  Miss  Jones  rose  to  leave.  The  Misses  Jenkins  bid 
her  an  affectionate  good  night,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  not 
soon  come  again,  yet  the  door  had  not  been  well  closed  on 
her  when  they  mutually  wished  never  to  see  her  face  again. 
She  had  such  a  nasty  habit  of  speaking  of  people  behind  their 
backs,  a  practice  of  which,  they  thanked  goodness,  they  were 
never  guilty. 

It  is  queer,  how  we  thus  censure  others  for  conduct  which 
very  often  forms  the  ruling  passion  of  our  own  character,  but 
as  that  astute  philosopher  Sam  Slick  says,  we  suppose  "  it's 
human  natur." 


NED  BROWN,  DONE  BROWN. 

NED  BROWN  was  arrested  in  Camp  street,  opposite  Lafayette 
Square  on  Friday  night,  as  Hue,  as  brandy  toddies  could  make 
him. 

"It  was  ,,ust  at  the  time  when  the  weary  gun 
Told  the  niggert  the  time  for  retiring ; 
And  Ned  felt  as  though  he'd  be  on  tor  some  fun, 
He  cried  out  "  hallo  !  stop  that  'ere  firing  1" 

"Stop  that  'ere  firing!"  he  cried  out  again — "  there  aint  no 
need  of  it.  We've  licked  the  Britishers,  and  we're  able  to  do 
it  again,  but  there  aint  no  use  making  too  much  noise  about 
it;  it  isn't  magnanimous  no  how  you  can  fix  it,  besides  the 
troops  is  all  dismissed  and  there's  no  need  in  fooling  them. 
Popping  off  a  gun  at  night  aint  poetical  neither,  and  as  I  views 
it  is  an  approach  to  amalgamation  principles,  because  it  is 
popping  the  question  in  a  sorter  way  to  the  niggers  It 
won't  never  furnish  such  an  idea  as 

*  The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day.' 


96  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

The  fact  is,  there's  music  in  a  bell,  but  there  aint  none  in  a 
cannon,  except  when  its  fired  at  the  enemy.  Hallo !  how 
every  thing  swims  round  like  a  woman  in  a  wallz ;  dang  it,  1 
believe  I  drank  one  glass  too  much  to-day.  Let  me  see  :  1 
took  my  bitters  in  the  morning,  I  took  a  glass  with  a  friend 
just  before  breakfast,  and  another  before  1  turned  out  to  see 
the  procession,  and — and — and — O,  dang  it,  I  have  lost  the 
hang  of  them  ;  but  why  should  I  bring  myself  to  the  degraded 
level  of  my  tavern  keeper,  and  make  an  entry  of  my  drinks — 
he'll  want  them  to  fill  up  his  schedule,  then  why  should  I 
give  myself  any  trouble  about  it?" 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  the  watchman,  coming  up — 
"I  should  like  to  know  what  you  is  a  talking  about." 

"About  my  private  business — the  manner  in  which  my 
domestic  affairs  is  conducted,"  said  Brown, "  but  I  should  like 

to  know,  old  feller,  if  I  can't  talk  about  what  I  d n  please 

without  you  coming  and  pokin'  your  nose  in  my  face  as  if 
you  wanted  to  smell  what  1  was  saying  instead  of  hearing  it." 

u  It's  part  of  my  system,"  said  the  watchman. 

"O,  dang  your  system,"  said  Brown,  "  improve  it  right  off 
Berker,  the  writing  master,  says  as  how  he  can  improve  the 
worst  system  in  six  lessons  of  one  hour  each  ;  put  yourself 
under  him  and  see  if  he  don't  teach  you  something  as  you 
don't  know." 

"  That's  enough,"  says  Charley,  "I  has  a  duty  to  perform, 
and,  as  the  feller  with  the  plaid  kilt  says  in  the  play, 

'  If  it  were  done,  when  'tis  done,  then  'twere  well 
It  were  done  quickly.' 

"  I'm  O.  K. — off  for  the  calaboose,  and  so  is  you."    Charley 
placed  Brown  in  the  watchhouse  without  saying  another  word. 
He  was  discharged  on  paying  jaifr  fees. 


L-A-W! 

AMONG  the  prisoners  in  the  Recorder's  court  of  the  First 
Municipality  yesterday,  were  two  individuals  who  claim  to 
belong  to  one  of  the  learned  professions !  A  singular  coinci 
dence  that,  to  have  two  men  whose  daily  duty  it  is  to  unloose 
the  manacles  of  the  law  when  they  are  cast  around  others, 
caught  themselves  in  its  intricate  and  perplexing  meshes.  We 
will  not  give  names,  but  shall  call  them  No  1  and  No.  2. 


L-A-W.  97 

No.  1,  whose  face  is  familiar  to  the  Recorder,  was  called. 

"Mr. — ,"  said  the  Recorder,  in  a  voice  so  loud  that 

rendered  a  repetition  by  the  crier  unnecessary,  "  Come  up 
here,  sir !"  and  Mr. ,  whose 

"  Right  leg  is  good  and  whose  left  leg  is  wood," 
hobbled  up  to  the  bench. 

Recorder. — "  You  have  been  drunk  again  ;  1  see  you  have ;  I 
know  you  have ;  aint  you  ashamed  of  yourself;  you,  who  come 
here  to  get  other  people  from  prison  every  other  day,  to  be  so 
often  yourself  in  that  dock;  are  you  not  ashamed  of  your 
self?" 

No.  1,  whose  nerves  appeared  to  be  utterly  powerless  and 
his  strength  entirely  prostrated  from  the  effect  of  his  debauch, 
said — "  No,  no,  Mr.  Bertus,  you  form  a  wrong  opinion  of  me  : 
there  is  some  one  behind  the  curtain  who  poisons  your  ear  to 
my  prejudice — some  person  who  stabs  in  the  dark — who " 

"  Come,  clear  out  sir,"  says  the  Recorder,  "  and  let  me 
never  see  you  brought  to  this  place  a  prisoner  again." 

No.  2  appeared  to  have  more  eccentricity  and  less  brandy 
toddies  in  him  than  No.  1.  He  had  one  shabby,  "shammy" 
glove  which  was  drawn  over  his  right  hand,  and  which  he 
took  some  pains  to  expose ;  the  rest  of  his  dress  was  in  the 
sere  and  yellow  leaf. 

Recorder. — "  What  are  you  ?" 

No.  2 — "  I  am.  may  it  please  the  court,  an  attornery  at  law, 
have  just  arrived  in  your  city." 

Recorder. — "  How  came  you  to  be  in street  last  evening 

in  a  state  of  intoxication  ?" 

No.  2. — "Lex  neminem  cogit  ostendere  quod  nescire  prcesum- 
itur — which  signifieth,  when  rendered  in  English,  the  law  will 
oblige  no  man  to  declare  that  of  which  he  is  presumed  to  be 
ignorant. 

Recorder. — "  Will  you  promise  not  to  get  tipsy  again  ?" 

No.  2. — «  Lex  neminem  cogit  ad  impossibilia — the  law  com 
pels  no  man  to  impossibilities." 

Recorder. — "  Since  you  are  such  a  rigid  stickler  for  the  law 
I  shall  fine  you,  agreeably  to  law,  $20  for  drawing  a  knife  on 
the  constable  who  took  you." 

JVo.  2. — u  If  you  do,  sir,  I'll  appeal  to  the  legus  legum." 

Orders  were  given  to  place  a  retainer  on  No.  2  and  his 
body  in  safe  custody,  to  keep  until  the  fine  be  paid ;  and  so 
ended  the  case  of  the  learned  lawyers. 
64 


98  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 


REGULATING  THE  CURRENCY. 

VARIOUS  have  been  the  ways  suggested  since  the  the  "  crisis '' 
of  '37  for  regulating  the  currency,  and  still  the  currency  re 
mains  unregulated,  or  in  a  state  of  disorder.  About  every  man 
in  the  Union,  from  Van  Buren,  who  suggested  the  sub-treasury, 
to  the  petty  pedler  in  pumpkins,  who  issued  his  individual 
shinplasters — from  Tom  Benton,  of  the  better  currency  noto 
riety,  to  the  directors  of  the  Brandon  Bank,  of  the  worse  cur 
rency  notoriety — lias  exercised  his  financial  skill  in  regulating 
the  currency. — Nicholas  Biddle,  who  was  considered  the 
"  great  regulator,"  like  all  others,  up  to  this  time,  having  failed 
in  the  attempt,  a  thousand  pigmy  financiers  have  started  into 
existence,  each  of  them  assuring  the  public  that  he  and  he 
alone  has  discovered  the  sure  and  certain  method  for  regulat 
ing  the  currency.  Their  nostrums  have  all  in  turn  been  ap 
plied  to  the  exchanges,  and  still  the  currency  is  deranged — 
etill  our  suffering  is  intolerable.  We  are  beginning  to  think 
that  the  currency,  like  the  individual  members  of  the  family 
of  chickens  among  which  the  donkey  kept  dancing,  will  have 
to  take  care  of  itself. 

If  Jerry  Brady's  mode  of  regulating  the  currency  does  not 
display  any  striking  points  in  the  way  of  providing  a  general 
circulating  medium,  or  facilitating  trade  and  commerce,  it  cer 
tainly  has  originality  about  it. 

Jerry  was  yesterday  arraigned  before  the  Recorder,  charged 
by  Kitty  Kane  with  stealing  from  her  two  $3  municipality 
notes  and  a  specie  dollar. 

Recorder  to  Kitty. — u  Will  you  prove  that  he  stole  your 
money  ?" 

Kitty. — "  O,  the  Lord  be  betune  us  an  harm  !  Recorder, 
avourneen  ;  do  you  think  I'd  tell  ye  a  lie,  after  bein'  yesther- 
day  wid  tire  priest  ?" 

Recorder. — "What  circumstances  lead  you  to  believe  he 
stole  it?" 

Kitty. — "  O,  the  crass  of  Christ  about  us !  who  else  could 
take  it,  barrin'  the  fairies  ?  and  sure  there's  none  of  them  in 
this  counthry." 


REGULATING  THE  CURRENCY.  99 

Recorder. — "Where  had  you  it?" 

Kitty. — "  That  I  may  niver  do  hurt  or  harm,  your  anar,  if 
I  hadn't  it  rowled  up  in  me  trashbag,  as  careful  as  if  it  was  a 
letther  from  home  was  in  it." 

Recorder. — "  Had  you  anything  in  your  purse  but  the  two 
$3  bills  and  the  silver  dollar  which  the  prisoner  took  ?" 

Kitty. — "  Nothin'  in  the  world  at  all  at  all,  your  anar,  but 
two  three  dollars  more,  another  silver  dollar  and  me  karackter." 

Recorder. — "Your  what?" 

Kitty. — "  Me  karackter,  plase  your  riverence." 

Recorder. — "  Why,  you  don't  carry  your  character  in  your 
pocket — do  you  ?" 

Kitty. — "  Yis,  sir — I  had  the  one  in  it  I  got  from  me  last 
place." 

The  Recorder  now  comprehended  that  Kitty  alluded  to  a 
written  certificate  of  good  conduct ;  and  he  was  also  in  pos 
session  of  the  main  facts  on  which  the  accusation  was  founded. 
Telling  Kitty  to  stand  back,  he  addressed  himself  to  Jerry 
Brady,  who  stood  all  this  time  scratching  his  head,  now  un 
buttoning  and  now  buttoning  his  vest,  raising  his  feet  as  if  he 
was  standing  on  heated  iron,  and  laying  them  down  again — 
betraying,  in  fact,  every  possible  symptom  of  uneasiness. 

Recorder. — "  Brady,  what  have  you  to  say  to  this  charge  ?" 

Jerry. — (Looking  in  the  most  imploring  manner  possible  at 
Kitty.) — "O,  sarrah  ha'porth  I  have  to  say,  yer  anar;  sure 
Kitty  knows  it  was  all  a  joke." 

Recorder. — "Rather  a  serious  joke,  my  good  fellow,  to 
steal  seven  dollars  from  her." 

Jerry. — "  Well,  I'll  till  your  anar  how  it  was,  as  thrue  as 
if  I  kissed  the  Bible.  You  see  I  met  twofrinds  from  theould 
country  that  I  didn't  put  me  two  lookin'  eyes  on  afore  sense 
I  left  New  Yark,  and  I  axed  thim  to  take  somethin' ;  but,  be 
gor,  I  forgot  that  1  hadn't  a  picayune  in  the  world.  I  took 
thim  in,  howsomedever,  and  treated  thim ;  and  sis  I  to  thim, 
sis  I,  c  Boys,  stop  here,  I  want  to  go  out,  but  I'll  be  back  to 
you  in  as  short  time  as  a  cat  'ud  be  aitin'  a  ha'porth  of  5utther. 
So  I  can  run  out  to  Kitty,  and  began  to  joke  wid  her  about 
wheder  she  or  I  had  the  most  money,  though  purshumin  to 
the  farthin'  good  or  bad  I  had.  She  pulled  out  her  fourteen 
dollars,  and  dared  me  to  show  as  much ;  whin  1,  out  of  a 
joke,  put  siven  of  thim  in  me  pocket,  and  ran  away  laughin'. 
'  Biddy,'  sis  1, <  you  have  siven  dollars  now,  and  I  have  siven 
dollars,  and  that  is  the  nearest  way  that  I  know  of  for  regulating 


100  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

the  currency.'    I  spint  the  money,  sir,  but  I'm  willin'  to  give 
her  me  I.  O.  U.  for  it." 

Certain  friends  interposed,  Kitty  accepted  Jerry's  terms  for 
liquidating  the  debt,  the  prosecution  was  withdrawn,  and  all 
the  parties  left  the  office  on  the  most  friendly  footing. 


VAGARIES  OF  THE  MOON. 

THOMAS  MOON  was  arrested  on  Friday  night,  for  being 
eclipsed  by  a  cloud  of  liquor. 

"  What's  your  name  ?"  said  the  watchman. 

"  Moon,"  said  Tom. 

"You  can't  shine,  Mr.  Moon !"  said  the  watchman. 

"  I  can't,  that's  a  fact,"  said  Tom,  "though  I  have  filled  my 
horns,  and  emptied  them,  too ;  but  give  me  a  hand — help  me 
to  rise.  You  know  what  Byron  says 

'The  Moon  is  up  ! 
By  heavens  !  a  glorious  sight !'  " 

"  Yes,  I  knows  all  that,"  said  the  watchman ;  "  but  it's  no 
matter  whether  I  does  or  not,  'cause  it  aint  in  the  ordinance 
—it  aint  nothing  but  poetry,  and  my  old  'ooman  always  told 
me  as  how  poetry  is  nonsense ;  so  come  along  to  the  watch- 
house,  Mr.  Moon." 

"  I  cry  quarter,"  said  Moon. 

"  You  shall  get  a  quarter — that  is,  three  calendar  months — 
in  the  workhouse,"  said  the  watchman. 

"Then  you  extinguish  the  light  of  my  prospects  for  ever," 
said  Moon. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  the  watchman ;  "  for  instead  of  put 
ting  you  out,  I  put  you  in."  And  so,  without  saying  more  on 
the  subject,  he  took  off  Moon  to  the  calaboose,  a  place  where 
he  had  often  been  before. 

He  was  immediately  recognised  by  the  officer  of  the  night 
whose  first  salutation  to  him  was — 

"  Why,  Moon,  how  do  you  rise !" 

"  1  don't  rise  at  all,"  said  Moon — "  I'm  on  the  decline." 

"  And  so  you  have  let  yourself  be  taken  up  again,"  said  the 
officer.  "  Well,  Mr.  Moon,"  he  added,  "  I  will  not  pretend  to 
say  that  you  are  made  of  green  cheese ;  but,  from  the  number 


TOM   STAR.  101 

of  times  which  you  have  recently  let  yourself  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  watch,  I  do  say  that  you  must  be  composed  of 
some  very  verdant  material." 

Mr.  Moon  got  his  third  quarter  in  the  workhouse  from  the 
Recorder. 


TOM  STAR  }  |\j  I 

TOM  STAR,  a  fellow  of  lean  Tdsage  an,d,  .^ 
whose  wardrobe  was  made  up  of  ^fireds  «&u(T. 
arrested  in  Carondelet  street  on  Friday"  night  "  strolling  his 
hour"  on  the  side  walk.  The  stars  of  heaven  were  veiled  in 
the  hazy  atmosphere  of  the  night,  and  Tom  Star  thought  it  a 
fitting  time  for  him  to  shine  out  in  all  the  radiance  of  dra 
matic  splendour. 

Tom.— 

"  'O  grim  lock'd  night !  O  night  with  hue  so  black! 
O  night,  which  ever  art,  when  day  is  not ! 

0  night,  0  night,  alack,  alack,  alack.' 

D n  me,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  take  another  brandy  toddy  . 

is  there  no  house  open  ?" 

"  I  say,  my  covey,"  says  Charley,  "  I'm  blow'd  if  you  ain< 
either  slewed,  mad,  or  in  love." 

Tom. — "  Yes, I  own  I  have  a  distempered  brain.  But  what's 
the  cause  ?  Aye,  there's  the  rub. 

1  Lovers  and  madmen  have  such  seething  brains — 
Such  sharping  phantasies,  that  apprehend 

More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends : 
The  lunatic,  the  lover  and  the  poet 
Are  of  imagination  all  compact.' 

But  tell  me,  hast  thou  seen  my  Julia  r" 

MI  doesn't  know  the  young  'ooman,"  says  Charley.— 
"  What's  her  number  ?  Who  is  she  ?" 

"  Her  number  !  who  is  she !"  says  Tom  Star,  echoing  the 
queries  of  the  watchman.  "  Her  number  I  precisely  know 
not,  but  well  do  I  know  she  is  all  that  painting  can  express 
or  youthful  poets  fancy,  when  they  love!" 

u  O,  I  sees,"  says  Charley,  u  that  you  is  a  reg'lar  goner. 
I'm  blow'd  if  Pease  horehound  candy,  or  Stillman's  highly 
concentrated  compound  syrup  of  sarsaparilla  and  pills  can 
cure  you." 


102  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

Tom  Star. — "  Alas  !  thou  speakest  truly,  too  truly. — 

'  Oh  could  I  feel  as  I  have  felt — or  be  what  I  have  been, 
Or  weep  as  I  could  once  have  wept,  o'er  many  a  vanish'd  scene: 
As  springs  in  deserts  found  seern  sweet,  all  brackish  though  they  be, 
So  'midst  the  withered  waste  of  life,  those  tears  would  flow  to  me."  ' 

[Here  Tom  pulls  from  his  coat  pocket  a  faded  and  unwash 
ed  remnant  of  a  French  silk  pocket  handkerchief,  which  he 
applies  t,o  his  orbits  and  acts  the  pathetic.  He  then  dashes 
on"  at  a  tangent  from  sorrow  to  joy,  and  commenced  sing 
ing]-^  ..... 

*  -"»  •»*  »   'K'  And  fet  me  the'  canakin  clink,  clink ; 
'    'Ami  'let-  ine  'tr*e  ranakin  clink  ; 
A  soldier's  a  man, 
A  life's  but  a  span 
Why  then,  let  a  soldier  drink.'  " 

"  Stop  that  ere,"  said  Charley ;  "  it  aint  agreeable  to  the 
stature  in  that  case  made  and  provided,  to  sing  in  the  streets 
at  this  time  o'  night." 

Tom  Star. — "  Fool !  knowest  thou  not  that  canticles  are 
sung 

'  Where  angels  join  in  harmony : 

Preposterous  ass !  that  never  read  so  far 

To  know  the  cause  why  music  was  ojdained  !'  " 

"  O,  there  aint  no  use  in  all  this  here  poe-try  and  nonsense," 
said  Charley.  "  You  is  evidently  either  mad  or  in  love, 
which  is  about  the  same  thing  if  it  was  figured  out  rightly.— 
If  J  was  to  leave  you  here  you  might  commit  suicide,  and  the 
law  would  bring  me  in  as  accessary  to  the  fact,  for  not  doing 
my  duty ;  so  you  must  come  to  the  watch'us." 

Tom  Star,  assuming  a  firm  step  and  in  a  theatrical  stride, 
advanced  to  Charley,  and  grasping  him  like  a  maniac,  he  said 
in  a  voice  a  la  Forrest — "  Good  friend,  for  such  I  call  thee,  I 
am  nor  mad,  nor  do  1  love-— I  loved  once,  but  away  with  the 
passion  now!  ButJ  hate  the  world,  and 

'  There  is  no  passion 
More  spectral  or  fantastical  than  hate  \ 
Not  even  its  opposite,  love,  so  peoples  the  air 
With  phantoms,  as  this  madness  of  the  heart !'  " 

«  Very  well,"  said  Charley,  "  I'll  argue  that  pint  'ud  you 
to-morrow ;"  and  without  listening  to  another  word  from  Tom 
Star  he  took  him  to  the  watch  house. 

Yesterday  morning  poor  Tom  looked  like  a  tree  prema- 


TOM  STAR.  103 

turely  despoiled  of  its  foliage,  or  like  King  Lear  in  the  storm 
scene. 

"  Tom  Star,"  says  the  Recorder. 

"  Tom  Star,"  repeated  the  officer,  "  dont  you  hear  yourself 
called  ?" 

"  When  it  is  my  cue  to  answer,"  said  Tom,  coolly  folding 
his  arms  and  casting  a  disdainful  look  at  the  watchman — "  I 
need  no  prompter.  Sir,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  judge 
and  sinking  his  head  somewhat — "  I  am  your  most  obsequi 
ous  servant." 

"  Mr.  Star,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  you  are  charged  with  being 
found  drunk  last  night." 

"Yes,"  says  Tom,  "  I  own  I  was  drunk.  I  got  drunk  in 
one  of  my  weaknesses ;  it  seems  to  be  a  failing  inseparable 
from  genins. 

'  O,  that  a  mighty  man  of  such  descent, 
Of  such  possessions,  and  so  high  esteem 
Should  be  infused  with  so  foul  a  spirit !'  " 

Recorder. — "  The  watchman  charges  you  with  being  abu 
sive  to  him." 

Tom  Star. — "  Doubtless,  your  honour,  I  may  have  been  ; 
but  you  know  what  the  immortal  Bard  of  Avon  says — 

'  Good  wits  will  be  jangling :  but  gentles  agree.' 

But,"  continued  Mr.  Star,  "  where  is  my  accuser  ?" 

"Watchman  Higgins,"  said  the  Recorder;  and  immediately 
a  clean  shaved  watchman  with  a  well  starched,  white  collared 
shirt  sticking  up  round  his  jaws  made  his  appearance. 
"  Here  he  is,"  said  the  Recorder. 
Tom  Star.— 

"  '  That  face  of  his  do  I  remember  well : 
Yet  when  I  saw  it  last,  it  was  besmear" d 
As  black  as  Vulcan,  in  the  smoke  of  war.' ' 

"  No  matter  how  he  looked,"  said  the  Recorder ,  "  he  is 
the  man  who  arrested  you." 

"  Well,"  said  Tom  Star,"  before  this  court  and  high  heaven 
I—" 

"  Silence,"  said  the  Recorder. 
Tom  Star. — 

"  '  I  must  have  liberty 
Withal,  as  large  a  charter  as  the  wind, 
To  blow  on  whom  I  please  ;  for  so  fools  have ; 
And  they  that  are  most  galled  with  my  folly, 
They  most  must  laugh.' 


104  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

Cruel  Julia,"  he  continued,  first  clasping  his  hands  and  look 
ing  up  at  the  ceiling  and  then  striking  his  forehead — "  Cruel 
Julia — 

'  The  time  was  once,  when  thou  unurged  wouldst  vow 

That  never  words  were  music  to  thine  ear, 

That  never  object  pleasing  to  thine  eye, 

That  never  touch — welcome  to  thy  hand, 

That  never  meat   weet  savor' d  to  thy  taste, 

Unless  I  spake,  look'd,  touch'd,  or  carv'd  to  thee  !'  " 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  Recorder,  who  found  that  Tom 
Star  was  neither  a  dangerous  or  suspicious  character,  but  one 
the  chamber  of  whose  senses  were  partially  empty — "  That 
will  do,  you  may  go  ;"  and  Tom  went  off,  R.  H.  U.  E.,  which 
in  stage  parlance  means,  right  hand  upper  entrance. 


A  JOLLIFICATION  IN  JAIL. 

• 

WITH  even  the  poor  outcast  inmates  of  the  parish  jail 
Christmas-day  was  a  day  of  festivity  and  temporary  social 
enjoyment. 

Mr.  Bouligny,  the  sheriff,  gave  them  on  Christmas-day  what  is 
termed  in  flash  phrase  "  a  blow  out."  He  had  prepared  for  them 
some  fine  pieces  of  roast  beef,  a  couple  of  whole  hogs,  had  plums 
put  in  their  rice  pudding,  and  gave  them  a  double  allowance 
of  grog.  In  fact,  he  did  every  thing  to  make  them  happy  for 
the  day,  and  they  did  every  thing,  on  their  part,  to  second  his 
humane  intention.  Many  of  them  seemed  to  forget,  for  the 
time  being,  that  the  felons  brand  was  on  their  forehead — that 
crime  had  attainted  their  character,  and  that  in  a  country  where 
all  are  by  right  alike  free,  they  have  voluntarily  forfeited  that 
proud  privilege,  and  are  the  manacled  captives  of  their  country, 
instead  of  enjoying  as  they  should,  all  the  immunities,  social 
and  political,  of  its  citizenship.  But  a  truce  to  moralizing. 
They  were  happy  on  the  occasion.  Why  should  not  we  be 
while  describing  it  ? — so  we  will  fly  off  at  a  tangent  from  grave 
to  gay. 

THE  DINNER. 

The  table  was  laid  in  the  large  yard  of  the  prison,  and  the 
viands  having  been  dished  up,  Jim  Jones  was  by  unanimous 
acclamation  called  on  to  take  the  stool,  and  John  Smith  was 
voted  in  Vice. 


A  JOLIFICATION  IN  JAIL.  105 

MR.  JONES'  SPEECH. 

Jim  Jones,  on  taking  the  stool,  said — "  Fellow-freemen  !— 
["  Oh !  oh  !"  from  two  members  on  the  right  of  the  stool,  and 
"  Pm  blowed  if  that  ain't  a  good  'un !"  from  a  little  terrier- 
faced  fellow  on  the  left  of  the  president.  There  were  cries 
of  "Order!  order!"  from  several  parts  of  the  table,  and  order 
being  restored,  Mr.  Jones  proceeded.]- — Fellow-prisoners :  I 
now  say,  as  I  was  about  to  say  when  I  was  interrupted  by  my 
friends  on  the  right  and  left,  I  thank  you  for  the  honour  you 
have  conferred  on  me  by  calling  me  to  preside  at  this  festive 
board.  Were  I  to  tell  you  how  deeply,  how  intensely  I  feel  the 
compliment,  I  would  be  compelled  to  steal  the  language — nay, 
the  very  ideas  themselves,  from  the  published  proceedings  of 
some  political  dinner  party ;  and  this  would  be  petty  larceny, 
indeed — a  crime  so  mean,  that  were  I  guilty  of  it,  I  would 
deserve,  and  I  feel  certain  I  would  receive,  the  scorn  and  con 
tempt  of  ever)*jgentleman  at  this  table  who  has,  like  myself, 
made  a  profession  of  roguery,  and  is  capable  of  appreciating 
honour  among  thieves." 

Here  a  long,  hungry-looking  fellow  cried  out — "Why,  look 
here,  Mr.  Chairman:  this  here  gammon  will  do  very  well  by- 
and-bye ;  but  doesn't  you  see  that  the  soup  is  getting  cold !" 

J\tr.  Jones. — "I  assure  the  gentleman  who  leaves  here  for 
Baton  Rouge  on  Saturday,  with  the  advice  and  consent  of 
twelve  of  his  fellow-citizens,  that  I  have  not  a  word  more  to 
say  on  the  present  occasion." 

John  Smith  [rising]. — "  Vel,  with  the  parmission  of  the 
chair,  I  has  just  a  vord  or  two  to  slip  in  edgevize,  I  calls  on 
the  chairman  to  say  if  there  vasn't  nothin'  personal  in  ap- 
pointin'  me  to  the  sitivation  of  wice." 

Chairman. — "Mr.  Vice,  1  cannot  open  the  door  for  discus 
sion  at  the  present  time." 

Vice. — "Veil  then,  I'm  blowed  if  I  don't  break  it  open,  and 
there  von't  be  no  burglary  in  that — it  ain't  sunset  yet !" 

Order  being  at  length  restored,  the  Rev.  Mr.  DePutron  was 
called  on  to  say  grace,  after  which  operations  were  commenced, 
and  the  tinkling  of  tin  plates  told  of  the  justice  which  was  being 
done  to  tl*  re  past. 

"  Mr.  Granger,"  said  the  chairman  to  a  fellow  with  a  swivel 
eye,  who  sat  near  the  centre  of  the  table,  and  was  vigorously 
engaged  in  anatomizing  a  rib  of  roast  beef — "  Mr.  Granger,  my 
friend  on  my  right  charges  you  with  eating  no  dinner!" 


106  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

Mr.  Granger. — [Holding  the  rib  of  beef  horizontally  across 
his  mouth,  and  looking  two  ways  at  once] — "  Not  guilty,  your 
honour." 

J\fr.  Smilh^  the  Vice-President. — [Addressing  a  savage,  cut 
throat-looking  customer  who  sat  near  him.] — "  I'm  Mowed, 
Brown,  if  you  ain't  valkin'  into  that  pork  and  beans  vith  a 
perfect  looseness !" 

Brown  [in  a  surly  tone].*—"  Veil,  there  ain't  no  harm  in  that 
— there  ain't  no  wiolation  of  the  hact  unless  it's  taken  and 
carried  away  /" 

Chairman. — "  Mr.  Stealwell,  won't  you  try  this  ham  ?" 

This  was  addressed  to  a  little,  grey-eyed,  sharp-nosed  man, 
»vho  acts  as  prosecuting  attorney  in  all  the  mock  trials  that 
are  held  in  the  prison. 

Mr.  Stealwell  [in  a  squeaking  voice]. — "No,  thank  you, 
Mr.  Chairman;  I  have  entered  a  noli  prosequi  in  that 
case." 

Thus  they  bandied  about  their  criminal  quiffs  and  personal 
puns  till  the  tin  -plates  and  picked  bones  were  removed,  ft 
must  be  understood  that  they  did  not  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a 
table  cloth. 

Having  arrived  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  the  chairman 
called  on  the  gentlemen  to  fill  for  a  bumper,  and  in  a  few 
moments  every  man's  saucepan  was  full  to  overflowing  of  pure 
Monongahela. 

Chairman. — "Gentleman,  I  will  give  you — 'The  Law — 
the  Law,  gentlemen :  one  of  the  principal  pillars  of  a  free 
State!'" 

Here  there  were  cries  of  "  D n  the  law  !" — "  The  law 

is  a  humbug,  and  so  is  the  chairman  !" — "  The  law  ought  to 
be  abolished — it's  a  remnant  of  kingly  tyranny !" 

The  majority  of  the  company  protested  against  drinking  the 
toast,  although  they  all  managed  to  drink  the  whiskey,  when 
the  chair  called  on  them  to  fill  again.  They  did  so,  and  he 
gave —  ~-'-9  • 

"  Our  public  institutions — Baton  Rouge  and  Sing-Sing  Peni 
tentiaries — monuments  of  the  high  state  of  civilization  which 
we  have  attained  !"  ^ 

Here  there  was  a  general  groan  for  the  "  silent  system ;" 
and  to  show  that  they  were  not  then  under  its  control,  every 
one  seemed  anxious  to  make  as  much  noise  as  he  could. 
Several  tin  saucepans  were  emptied  of  their  contents  and  shyed 


TIM  FLANIGAN'S  GHOST.  107 

at  the  head  of  the  chairman,  who  was  compelled  to  retire  for 
safety  to  his  cell.  John  Smith,  the  vice,  was  then  promoted 
to  the  place  vacated  by  the  late  chairman. 

We  are  admonished  to  report  no  further  progress,  and  there 
fore  close  with  the  favourite  phrase — "The  festivities  were 
kept  up  till  a  late  hour  in  the  evening."" 


TIM  FLANIGAN'S   GHOST. 

A  STORY  OF  THE  CHARITY  HOSPITAL  I FOUNDED  ON  FACT. 

THERE  is  a  strong  prejudice — call  it  vulgar  if  you  will — 
against  the  dissection  of  human  bodies.  However  much  the 
practice  may  subserve  the  cause  of  science,  but  few  are  willing 
that  the  corpse  of  their  friend  should  be  subjected  to  the  opera 
tion  of  the  scalpel.  The  march  of  intellect  must  be  onward,  un 
interrupted  in  its  course,  for  another  century  at  least,  ere  people 
altogether  divest  themselves  of  those  old  fashioned  scruples. 
We  like  to  have  the  bones  of  those  we  loved  in  life  quietly 
interred  in  death — we  prefer  to  have  them  reposing  beneath 
the  green  sward  of  the  most  humble  grave  yard,  though  no 
carved  stone  or  sculptured  monument  marks  the  spot,  than  to 
see  them  gracing  the  lecture  room  of  the  most  celebrated  sur 
gical  institution,  and  used  as  an  anatomical  ABC,  for  the 
study  of  some  embryo  Sir  Astley  Cooper. 

It  was  this  feeling — commendable  in  our  opinion  as  it  is — 
which  gave  rise  to  a  rather  ludicrous  scene  at  the  Charity 
hospital  on  an  evening  of  the  past  week. 

A  wag,  who  knew  an  Irishman  to  be  sick  in  the  hospital, 
was  determined  to  have  a  joke  at  the  expense  of  poor  Patrick's 
wife's  feelings — feelings  which  were  as  surcharged  with  love — 
pure  and  virtuous  love — for  that  sick,  penniless  husband,  as 
though  honour  and  wealth  were  his  and  she  basked  in  the 
sunshine  of  both. 

Here  is  a  copy,  verbatim  et  literatim,  of  a  letter  he  sent  her : 


"  CHARITY  HOSPITAL,  ? 

Thursday  evening,  4  o'clock.  3 

"  Dear  Peggy — I  died  this  mornm*  at  tin  o'clock.     If  you  don't  cum 
and  take  me  away  out  of  this,  these  butcherin',  canibal  docthors  will  ( 


away  out  01  this,  these  butchenn  ,  canibal  docthors  will  cut 
me  up  in  bits  while  you'd  be  fryin'  a  herrin,  and  they'll  do  it  as  uncon- 
sarned  as  you'd  carve  a  St.  Matin's  goose.  Peggy,  a' colleen,  you  know 
none  of  the  family  iver  died  'ithout  a  dacint  funeral,  barin'  rne  brother 


108  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

Terry,  and  he  didn't  die  at  all  at  all,  for  he  was  kilt  in  the  field  of  battle 
fightui  the  French;  so,  a  cushla,  tell  all  the  boys  I'm  ded  ;  sell  the  furnil 
ture  to  get  a  hearse ;  and  let  me  have  an  illigant  funeral.  Do,  Biddv 
bury  me  dacint. 


"  Yours,  till  death  does  us  part, 
"  TIM 


"P.  S.  Hurry,  or  the  docthors  will  have  me,  and  they'll  cut  me  up  in 
bits  to  lecthur  on  me  body— just  as  Tom  Horan,  the  school-master  used 
to  cut  up  a  praytee,  when  he'd  be  lecthurin'  on  algebra  and  explaynin'  the 
sides  and  angles  of  a  parallelogram.  The  docthors !— Hurry ! 


T.  F.1 


Poor  Peggy  opened  the  letter,  saw  the  announcement  of 
Tim's  death,  and  read,  her  eyes  suffused  with  tears,  his  dying 

injunction  to  her  to  save  him  from  the  scalpel  of  the  surgeons. 

Without  once  perceiving  the  absurdity  it  contained,  or  stop 
ping  to  criticise  its  incongruities,  she  ran  to  the  undertakers ; 
hired  a  hearse  and  carriage,  and,  accompanied  by  a  couple  of 
Tim's  friends  on  horseback,  hurried  on  to  the  hospital.  Hav 
ing  arrived  there,  Peggy,  in  that  plaintive  funeral  cry — half 
melody  and  half  mourning — peculiar  to  the  peasantry  of  her 
sex  in  the  west  of  Ireland,  keaned  out  as  she  left  the  carriage  : 

"  0  thin,  Tim,  Tim,  a  vick-o-machree,  why  did  you  die  ? 
And  lave  me  in  a  furreign  land,  without  a  frind  ; 
Sure,  when  you  were  by  me  side  I  didn't  fear  the  fayver ; 
But  now  that  you're  gone,  whose  to  protect  me  at  all  all !" 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  good  woman  ?"  says  the  gentleman 
who  officiates  as  clerk  of  the  hospital ;  "  what's  the  matter  ?" 

Poor  Biddy  heeded  not  what  he  said.  She  had  lost— so 
she  thought — her  Tim  ;  and  her  mind  was  too  full  of  grief  to 
entertain  a  thought  that  was  not  of  him. 

One  of  Tim's  equestrian  friends,  however,  replied  in  a  surly 
tone — « She  wants  the  dead  body  of  her  husband,  and  she 
must  have  it  too.  Don't  think  you're  goin'  to  larn  the  art  of 
killin'  people  and  cuttin'  off  limbs,  upon  him,  tho'  he  did  die 
in  the  Charity  Hospital !" 

"  Pray,  what's  his  name  ?"  inquired  the  clerk. 

"  His  name  was  Tim  Flanigan ;  but  he's  dead  now the 

Lord  be'good  to  his  sowl ! — and  in  truth,  if  he  was  alive  and 
in  his  own  father's  house  to-day,  it  isn't  dead  he'd  be  in  a 
Charity  Hospital !"  replied  Tim's  friend. 

"  Tim  Flanigan !  why  he's  not  dead— it  is  but  a  short  time 
since  he  took  his  soup!"  said  the  clerk. 

"  Yis,  and^e  gor  it  isn't  long  till  we  give  you  your  tay,  if 
you  don't  let  us  have  the  body !"  said  Tim's  friend. 

In  short,  they  would  have  Tim  vJead  ;  and  they  would  have 


POOR  JACK.  109 

the  body ;  and  they  would  go  up  to  the  room  in  which  they 
knew  him  to  be,  or  to  have  been.  Up,  therefore,  they  went. 
Tim  had  just  fallen  into  a  slumber,  after  having  taken  his  soup. 
He  was  dreaming  of  the  green  fields  of  his  childhood,  or,  may 
hap,  of  that  period  of  life  still  green  in  his  memory,  which  the 
frosts  of  adversity  could  never  render  withered  or  arid — 
that  period  when  the  rosy  cheek  and  soft  blue  eye  of  Peggy 
first — 

"  Caught  his  youthful  fancy !" 

Whatever  he  was  dreaming  of,  Peggy  was  thinking  of  but  him. 
She  flew  to  give  him  an  embrace,  but  before  she  could  clasp 
his  horizontal  form  he  had  awoke,  and  sprung  upright  in  the 
bed  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had  been  galvanized. 

Peggy  fainted — Tim's  two  courageous,  equestrian  friends 
ran  to  the  gate,  mounted  their  horses  and  galloped  home, 
swearing  they  saw  Tim  Flanigan's  ghost ;  that  every  room  in 
the  hospital  was  haunted  with  sperets,  and  that  they'd  never 
go  for  Tim's  corpse  agin  till  there  had  been  three  masses  said 
for  the  repose  of  his  sowl. 

Peggy  soon  recovered,  and  instead  of  finding  Tim  a  corpse 
was  rejoiced  to  find  him  convalescent. 


POOR   JACK. 

.    "  There's  a  sweet  little  cherub  that  sits  up  aloft, 
And  keeps  watch  for  the  life  of  poor  Jack !" 

THUS  sang  the  poet  Dibdin;  but,  like  most  all  other 
poetry,  it  is  more  to  be  admired  for  its  imagination  than  for 
its  reality.  That  instances  are  innumerable  where  the  life 
of  poor  Jack  has  been  miraculously  saved  from  destruction 
by  Divine  Providence,  we  will  admit ;  but  for  what  good  pur 
pose,  we  ask,  does  this  sweet  little  cherub  keep  constant 
watch  over  him  ?  Is  it  to  inure  him  to  privations  and  perils 
at  sea,  such  as  few  landsmen  feel,  and  to  lead  him  into 
intemperance  and  expose  him  to  imposition  when  ashore  ? 

It  is  really  frightful  to  see  the  poor,  honest,  unsophisti 
cated  sailors  lavishing  in  riot  and  dissipation  the  meagre  wages 
which  they  receive  for  their  hazardous  and  laborious  ser 
vices.  It  may  be  said  that  this  language  applies  to  sailors 
as  they  were^  not  as  they  are.  If  they  have  improved  in  their 


110  PICKINGS    FROr.I    THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

habits  we  rejoice  at  it,  though,  should  any  one  take  a  walk 
by  the  taverns  to  which  they  resort,  as  we  did  very  recently, 
he  will  see  but  little  evidences  of  the  desirable  reformation. 
He  will  see  them  in  dirty  squads,  sitting  round  dirty  tables, 
playing  dirty  cards,  drinking  dirty-looking  liquor,  or  other 
wise  engaged  in  riotous  dissipation. 

It  would  be  indeed  well  if  the  sailor  were  taught  to  eschew 
these  habits — if  he  were  taught  a  proper  degree  of  self-respect, 
and  that  there  were  other  incentives  to  his  ambition  than  that 
of  being  first  to  mount  the  rigging  or  take  in  or  make  sail. 

One  of  them,  a  redfaced,  unshaved  fellow,  with  hair — like 
the  Mississippi  water — of  a  muddy,  yellow  colour,  and  wearing 
a  dress  distinctive  of  his  calling,  was  yesterday  brought  before 
the  Recorder,  on  the  charge  of  being  drunk  and  creating  a 
disturbance  in  the  street. 

Recorder — (to  the  prisoner) — "  How  came  you  to  get  so 
drunk  ?" 

Sailor — "  Well,  Lord  love  your  honour,  that's  more  nor  I 
well  knows.  I  met  you  sees,  with  an  old  shipmate  that  I 
hadn't  seen  for  several  years.  We  went,  of  course,  to  take  a 
glass  of  grog  together ;  we  then  began  to  compare  reckonings 
and  read  over  log-books,  and  while  at  this,  glass  followed 
glass.  Neither  of  us,  it  appeared,  made  very  prosperous  voy 
ages.  Sal,  my  old  shipmate's  sweetheart — that  he  left  after 
him  when  he  went  on  his  last  voyage  to  India,  and  who 
promised  to  splice  braces  with  him  on  his  return — cut  the 
fastenings  while  he  was  away,  and  put  out  with  a  ^ubberly 
tailor. — And  my  Bess — poor  girl !  with  whom  I  hoped  to 
labour  for  life— she  didn't  run  away  with  a  tailor — oh,  no — 
but  her  timbers,  your  honour,  were  too  weak  for  this  stormy 
world,  and  though  she  was  as  trim  and  pretty  a  craft  as  was 
ever  moored  in  a  fellow's  heart,  she  sunk — into  the  grave ! — 
while  I  was  on  my  last  whaling  voyage.  The  telling  of  these 
things  to  one  another,  your  honour,  made  our  hearts  spring  a 
leak,  like,  and  we  took  grog  by  way  of  caulking,  to  stop  it." 

The  Recorder  asked  the  police  officer  if  he  was  offensive, 
or  had  insulted  any  person.  The  officer  said  he  was  not;  but 
he  was  staggering  along  the  side-walk,  scarcely  able  to  walk, 
and  was  singing— 

"A  tar  he  is  a  jolly  dog — 

He  loves  his  lass  and  he  likes  his  grog" 

;t  Well,  then,"  said  the  Recorder, "  I  shall  dismiss  him.   But,u 


NED  K.\o      OJ\T  ELECTIONS.  Ill 

said  he  addressing  the  prisoner,  "  if  you  should  be  brought  up 
again,  I  shall  send  you  to  the  calaboose." 

"  Don't  fear  that,  your  honour  ;  I'll  keep  a  look-out  ahead 
for  breakers  hereafter  while  I'm  in  the  city.  You  shan't  find 
me  hauled  up  again  by  such  a  piratical-looking  wrecker  as 
this  here" — alluding  to  the  officer. 

He  then  drew  two  dollars  from  the  pocket  of  his  blue  jacket, 
paid  jail  fees,  and  crowded  sail  out  of  the  office. 


NED   KNOX  ON  ELECTIONS. 

"I  SAYS  whooror!  for  the  people,"  said  Ned  Knox  on 
Monday  night — "  and  I  says,  whooror  for  'lections  too.  Fel 
lers  talk  of  inwentions,  of  locomotives,  and  lightin'  rods, 
and  lectrifyin'  machines,  and  all  that,  but  them  aint  nothin' 
compared  with  'lections.  'Lections  is  the  greatest  inwen- 
tion  of  the  age,  and  congress  ought  to  give  the  man  what 
fust  made  the  model  of  them  a  patent  right,  renewable 
forever.  I  admit  that  the  principle  might  be  improved ;  a 
feller  with  a  genius  could  make  it  to  move  along  with  the 
enlightened  spirit  of  the  age,  as  Bill  Brown,  the  candidate  for 
the  legislature,  said.  Now,  if  I  was  ingineer  of  the  concern, 
I'd  clap  on  steam — I'd  fire  up,  I  tell  you ;  you  wouldn't  get 
me  to  stop  the  ingine,  no  way  you  could  fix  it;  I'd  never  stop 
to  wood,  nor  take  in  passengers ;  Td  go  ahead  all  the  time ; 
I'd  hold  perpetual  'lections — and  then  a  feller  'ud  get  his 
liquor  gratis  all  the  time,  and  he  could  go  to  the  choosen 
candidate's  swar-ee  every  night.  Besides,  these  perpetual  'lec 
tions  'ud  have  more  influence  on  the  manners  of  the  people 
than  an  act  would,  if  one  was  to  pass  congress  to  inculcate 
the  principles  of  politeness.  Talk  of  the  people  being  free 
and  equal ! — veil,  folks  that  want  somethin'  to  talk  about  may 
talk  of  it,  but  it's  all  talk  and  no  toddies — men  aint  never  free 
and  equal  but  at  'lection  times.  'Lections,  like  orders  of 
enlistment,  brings  all  men  to  the  same  standard — them  that 
aint  got  no  wote  are  too  low  for  the  service;  them  that's  too 
aristocratic  are  too  high  for  the  ranks,  and  won't  get  the  com 
mand.  Therefore,  I  says  again,"  said  Ned  Knox,  "  whooror  f 
for  'lections." 

"  I  say,  silence,"  said  the  watchman,  who  at  a  distance  had 
heard  Ned's  dissertation  on  elections,  and  took  him  to  be  a 


112  PICKINGS   FROM    THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

Millente  holding  forth. — "  Silence,  I  is  the  guardian  of  the  peo 
ple's  lives  and  properties,  and  it  would  be  a  wiolation  of  my 
dhuty,  'cordin'  to  the  corporation  ord'nance,  to  let  you  frighten 
folks  out  of  their  lives,  or  cheat  them  out  of  their  property." 

"  Shut  up,"  said  Ned,  "  I  doesn't  care  if  you  was  an  alder- 
man — I'm  a  hindependent  woter." 

"  Well,  and  what  if  you  be,"  said  the  watchman ;  "  the  polls 
is  closed  now." 

«  Who  cares,"  said  Ned  ; "  I'm  like  a  bill  before  the « House'— 
I'm  open  for  discussion." 

"  Then  I  moves,"  said  the  watchman,  "  that  you  be  referred 
and  taken  up  before  the  Recorder  to-morrow  morning." 

"  I  calls  for  the  yeas  and  nays,"  said  Ned. 

"  The  question  is  carried,"  said  the  watchman,  and  he  car 
ried  Ned  Knox  off  to  the  watchhouse,  reported  progress  to 
the  officer  of  the  night,  and,  instead  of  asking  leave  to  sit  again, 
went  and  took  his  stand. 


JACK  BURNS,  THE  BUSTER. 

THE  oddest  looking  fellow  up  before  the  Recorder  yester 
day  was  Jack  Burns.  He  was  a  case  of  the  superlative  order, 
or  highly  concentrated  kind.  His  eyes  were  like  a  pair  of 
preserved  beans ;  nature  had  made  an  excavation  in  the  centre 
of  his  nose ;  his  lips  were  like  a  large  plumb  that  became 
cracked  in  the  centre  from  being  over  ripe  ;  there  was  a  hol 
low  in  his  chin  as  if  it  had  been  made  there  by  a  butter  taster; 
his  hair  was  like  a  half-tanned  fox  skin,  and  his  whole  face 
was  as  ragged  as  a  newly  picked  mill-stone. 

He  was  progressing  along  the  Levee,  if  the  term  can  be  ap 
plied  to  making  three  steps  forward,  two  to  the  right,  four  to 
the  left,  and  an  uncertain  number  backward.  The  motion  of 
his  tongue,  like  the  motion  of  his  feet,  went  every  which  way. 
He  was  singing,  and  whilst  one  of  his  notes  was  at  D  flat,  the 
next  one  jumped  clear  up  to  A  sharp.  The  watchman  could 
not  positively  swear  to  what  tune  his  song  went,  but  from 
the  measure  we  would  say  that  it  was  to  the  air  of  "Roy's 
wife  of  Aldavallah." — Thus  it  went : 

Though  I  go  upon  the  batter 

To  others  it  should  make  no  matter  ; 

Yet  if  I  get  high, 

Some  watchman  spy, 
Says,  shut  up — why  make  so  d d  a  clatter  ? 


JACK  BURNS,  THE  BUSTER.  113 

"  And  then,"  said  Burns,  descending  from  poetry  to  prose, 
"he  is  sure  to  lay  his  grapling  irons  on  me  and  take  me  right 
off  to  the  watchhouse." 

"  He  does,  does  he,"  said  the  watchman,  who  had  been 
listening  to  the  melody  of  Burns. 

"  I'm  blamed  if  he  dont,"  said  Burns,  "  and  I'll  tell  you 
what  it  is,  old  feller,  I  look  upon  these  here  Charlies,  both  in- 
diwidually  and  in  the  aggregate,  as  greater  enemies  to  human 
happiness  and  the  peace  of  society,  than  either  musquitos  or 
the  Seminole  Indians.  I'm  blow'd  jf  I  doesn't  have  a  law 
of  general  hextermination  passed  agin  all  vatchmen  and 
vatch  men's  rattles  by  the  next  congress.  They  are  the  nat'ral 
enemies  of  the  'uman  race,  and  I  wants  to  put  a  general  hex- 
tiuguisher  on  'em." 

"  The  d 1  you  do,"  says  Charley,  who  became  some 
what  enraged  at  this  wholesale  denunciation  of  his  whole 
"  order."  "  Well  now,  I  tell  you  one  thing,  old  feller,  you 
can't  shine,  no  how  you  can  fix  it.  Now,  if  you  aint  no  ob 
jection  you'll  come  along  with  me,  and  we'll  see  to-morrow 
how  far  you  can  carry  out  your  principles." 

"  Why,  you  haint  no  vatchman,"  said  Burns. 

"  Yes,  but  I  are  though,"  said  Charley,  "and  a  right  up  and 
down  one  at  that." 

"  Veil,"  said  Burns,  "  you  know  I  didn't  mean  vot  I  said — 
I  vas  but  larkin'." 

"  I  aint  green,"  said  Charley.  "  You  can't  throw  sand  in 
this  child's  eyes.  I  can't  stand  no  more  nonsense :  business 
is  business,  as  the  Yankee  said  when  he  dived  into  the  pump 
kin  pie ;  so  come  along."  And  off  he  took  Burns  to  the 
Baronne  street  watchhouse. 

As  they  went  along  the  prisoner  took  much  pains  to  con 
vince  his  captor  that  the  watchmen,  taken  as  a  body,  or  every 
body  among  them  taken  as  himself,  were  the  best  disposed 
fellows  in  the  world — the  protectors  of  men's  lives  and  liberties, 
and  in  fact  whole-souled  fellows  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

Charley  was  not  to  be  caught  in  the  trap,  so  he  delivered 
Burns  in  "  good  order  and  condition"  to  the  constable  of  the 
night  at  the  Baronne  street  prison,  where  he  was  caged  till 
yesterday  morning. 

Before  the  Recorder  he  pleaded  good  intentions,  but  his 
honour  having  recognized  him  as  one  who  had  been  up  before 
and  down  before,  to  prevent  him  from  being  up  again  he  sent 
him  down  again  for  thirty  days. 
65 


114  TICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 


CON  O'DONNELL  THE  CORNED. 

CON  O'DONNELL,  the  learned,  liquoring,  loafing  Con  O'Don- 
nell  was  again  up  before  Recorder  Baldwin  yesterday.  Con 
can  solve  the  most  difficult  mathematical  problem,  but  he  can 
not  keep  sober.  He  can  trace  the  ancient  republics  of  Greece 
and  Rome  through  their  rise,  the  meridian  of  their  glory,  and 
their  fall ;  but  he  very  often  falls  down,  unable  to  trace  his 
way  home  to  his  lodgings.  He  can  describe  the  revolutions 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  ;  to  describe  the  revolutions  of  his  own 
body  would  puzzle  a  Herschell.  The  philosophy  of  Franklin, 
the  eloquence  of  Patrick  Henry,  the  poetry  of  Shakspeare, 
and  the  romance  of  Scott  are  subjects  upon  which  he  can 
dwell  with  an  ardour  bordering  on  enthusiasm — their  respec 
tive  beauties  he  can  point  out  with  the  unerring  eye  of  criti 
cism,  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  there  are  times — times  which  too 
often  occur — when  he  actually  cannot  see  "  a  hole  through  a 
forty  foot  ladder." 

"  C0n  O'Connell,"  said  the  Recorder. 

Con,  whose  eye  was  in  a  fine  phrensy  rolling — his  mania  a 
potu  stuck  out  a  feet — looked  wildly  round  the  court  and  ex 
claimed  in  most  tragical  accents 

"  '  So  this  is  Tyre,  and  this  is  the  court. 

Here  must  I  kill  King  Pericles ;  and  if  I  do  not,  I 

Am  sure  to  be  hanged  at  home.'  " 

"  You  were  found  drunk  again  last  night,  Con,"  said  the 
Recorder. 

Con. — Addressing  the  policeman  in  a  peremptory  manner-— 

"  Give  me  my  robe,  put  on  my  crown,  I  have 
Immortal  longings  in  me." 

Recorder. — "  What  does  he  say  ?" 

Con. — Slapping  his  forehead  with  his  open  hand — looking 
up  at  the  ceiling  of  the  court,  and  throwing  his  body  into  a 
melo-dramatic  attitude 

"  Dissolve,  thick  cloud,  and  rain;  that  I  may  say 
The  gods  themselves  do  weep." 

The  Recorder,  without  seeming  to  mind  the  strange  antics 
of  Con,  or  his  incoherent  though  classical  answers  to  the 
questions  put  to  him,  said 


A  REAL   GAMIi   COCK  OF   THE   WILDERNESS.  115 

"  Con,  1  shall  send  you  clown  this  time  for  thirty  days ;  there 
seems  to  be  no  other  mode  of  managing  you." 

Here  Con  fell  back  into  his  seat  and  in  a  voice  mellowed 
by  the  spirit  of  resignation,  said 

"  I  knew,  I  knew  it  could  not  last — • 

'Twas  bright,  'twas  heavenly,  but  'tis  past!" 

"Take  him  out,"  said  the  Recorder;  and  when  the  police 
men  went  to  execute  the  order,  Con  in  an  instant  again  threw 
himself  into  an  attitude  of  self-defence. 

"Unhand  me,  gentlemen;  by  heaven  I  swear 
I'll  make  a  ghost  of  him  that  let's  me." 

The  policemen,  nothing  daunted  at  the  threats  of  Con,  took 
him  out. 


A  REAL  GAME  COCK  OF  THE  WILDERNESS. 

CONSCIENCE,  says  Shakspeare,  makes  cowards  of  us  all,  and 
odd  conceits,  say  we,  make  fools  of  us  all.  A  live  hoosier, 
who  was  returning  from  one  of  the  fancy  balls  on  Saturday 
night  last,  while  on  his  way  home  to  his  flat-boat  cut  up  such 
extraordinary  shines  and  antics,  that  the  watchman  thought 
him  in  every  way  entitled  to  an  introduction  to  our  worthy 
Recorder.  Two  or  three  nights  previous  he  had  seen  Dan 
Marble  in  the  "  Game  Cock  of  the  Wilderness,"  and  the  thing 
pleased  him  so  well  that  he  rigged  himself  out  on  Saturday 
evening  as  much  like  the  game  chicken  as  possible,  and  went 
to  the  ball.  While  there,  he  gave  occasionally  a  crow  and 
took  occasionally  a  drink,  until  at  length  he  found  himself 
somewhat  loaded  down  by  the  head,  although  elevated  in  spirits 
and  perfectly  ripe  for  any  thing. 

The  putting  out  of  the  lights  at  some  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  was  the  signal  for  our  hero  to  put  out  for  home.  He 
felt  so  well,  to  use  his  own  words,  "  that  he  couldn't  hold 
himself  still,"  and  so  wide  awake  that  at  every  corner  he  came 
to  he  would  flap  his  arms  violently  against  his  sides  and  crow 
so  much  like  a  chicken,  that  every  rooster  in  the  neighbour 
hood,  thinking  it  the  signal  for  day-break,  joined  in  the  chorus. 
Chapman  himself,  in  his  happiest  efforts,  never  could  excel 
this  second  Samson  Hardhead. 

He  had  just  given  a  specimen  of  his  skill  in  crowing  at  the 


116  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

corner  of  Poydras  and  Tchoupitoulas  streets,  when  a  watch 
man  came  up  and  told  him  he  must  make  less  noise. 

"  Noise  !  Ooh-a-ooh-a-oooh  !  Do  you  call  that  a  noise  ?" 
said  the  fellow,  giving  another  sample  of  his  abilities  at  crow 
ing. 

"Noise,  yes — you  must  shut  up.  Who  are  you,  any 
how  ?" 

"  I'm  the  second  Game  Cock  of  the  Wilderness — look  out 
for  my  gaffs,"  at  the  same  time  jumping  sideways  at  the  watch 
man,  hitting  him  with  his  right  foot  and  elbow,  and  sending 
him  stumbling  into  the  middle  of  the  street. 

"You're  a  hard  chicken,  at  all  events,"  said  the  Charley, 
recovering  himself  and  walking  up  to  this  new  species  of  cus 
tomer  a  second  time.  "  Blow  me  if  I  can  get  the  hang  of 
you." 

"  You  will  soon — Ooh-a-ooh-a-oooh  !"  returned  the  droll 
customer,  hopping  up  and  giving  the  watchman  another  "  side 
winder,"  as  the  latter  called  it  in  court.  This  was  too  much, 
and  the  Charley  accordingly  called  in  the  assistance  of  one  of 
his  brethren  and  soon  had  the  game  cock  safely  under  lock 
and  key.  He  crowed  several  times  on  his  way  to*the  watch- 
house,  and  once  or  twice  tried  to  hop  up  and  knock  over  the 
Charlies  upon  the  same  principle  a  regular  game  chicken  goes 
to  work  at  his  adversary,  but  they  soon  understood  his  tricks 
and  took  measures  to  keep  out  of  reach.  On  being  pushed 
into  the  dark  room,  he  broke  out  with 

"  Well,  this  is  a  pretty  place  I  dont  think.  Its  as  dark  as  a 
box  of  blackin'.  Let  me  out  or  I'll  butt  the  door  down.  I 
wish  I  had  my  big  lamp  here  to  light  up  with.  Its  a  perfect 
prairie  on  fire.  I  sot -it  out,  once,  the  darkest  night  that  ever 
come  over,  and  all  creation  riz,  Thinkin'  it  was  day-light.  Let 
me  out.  I'm  a  liberty  pole  and  can't  bear  confinement."  In 
this  way  he  went  on,  using,  a  part  of  the  time,  ideas  he  recol 
lected  from  the  play,  and  filling  up  the  rest  with  original  speci 
mens  of  his  own. 

In  the  morning,  on  being  brought  before  the  Recorder,  he 
said  his  old  name  was  Bill  Bloom,  but  that  he  had  taken  that 
of  Samson  Hardhead,  Jr.,  because  it  pleased  him  better. 

"  Well,  Samson,"  said  his  honour,  "  what  do  you  follow  ?" 

"  Crowing,  principally,"  retorted  Hardhead.  "  I've  taken  up 
the  business  lately." 

"  You  was  fighting  with  a  watchman  last  night,"  said  the 
Recorder. 


A  TAILOR'S  NEEDLE  MAGNIFIED  INTO  A  BOWIE-KNIFE.  117 

"Fighting!  You  dont  call  that  fighting,  do  you?  I  was 
only  prac//seing  on  a  new  principle.  If  you  should  see  me 
4  sure  enough '  fighting  onc't  you'd  think  war  had  broke  out 
in  earnest.  Fighting !  why,  if  J'd  been  really  fighting  with 
that  chap  I'd  have  jumped  clean  down  his  throat  and  stopped 
his  digestion  for  a  fortnight." 

"  State  the  circumstances  of  the  arrest,"  said  his  honour  to 
the  watchman. 

The  latter  was  proceeding,  when  the  hoosier  sung  out 

"•'Squire,  that  varmint  is  telling  lies  so  fast  you  can't  find 
time  to  believe  him.  Look  here,  'Squire,  do  the  thing  that's 
right  by  me,  will  you,  but  dont  believe  that  chap." 

"  Silence,"  said  the  Recorder. 

uOh,  well,  if  you're  going  in  on  the  gagging  principle  I'm 
shut  up;  but  there's  one  thing  you  must  understand  that  I'm  an 
American  citizen,  slightly  touched  with  the  game  cock,  and  I 
go  in  on  the  broad  principle  that  one  country  is  just  as  good 

as  another  in  time  of  peace,  and  a  d d  sight  better.  Ooh- 

i-ooh-a-ooh  !  day's  a  breakin' !" 

"  Silence !"  again  said  the  Recorder.  "  I  shall  fine  you  ten 
dollars  for  this  offence,  but  if  you  are  caught  here  again  you 
wont  get  off  so  easy." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  the  hoosier,  as  he  walked  o/ut  of  the  of 
fice.  He  took  one  more  crow,  however,  on  the  steps,  arid 
then  made  for  his  flat-boat. 


A  TAILOR'S  NEEDLE  MAGNIFIED  INTO  A  BOWIE- 
KNIFE! 

THERE  was  nothing  of  consequence  before  the  police  offices 
on  Monday,  if  we  except  a  case  to  which  the  parties  were — 
The  Stat.e  vs.  Antonio  Rosendeau. 

The  defendant  was  a  stunted  little  man-milliner,  with  a  pair 
of  legs  like  the  prongs  of  a  pair  of  parlour  tongs. 

"Watchman  O'Haia,"  said  the  Recorder — "What  is  your 
charge  against  Rosendeau  ?" 

"  Carryin'  consaled  waypons,  yer  honour.  He  dhrew  a  sharp 

^insthrument  on  me  last  night.     1  don't  know  whether  it  was  a 
bowie-knife  or  a  dirk ;  but  it  was  mighty  sharp,  intirely.  The 
night  was  dark  as  pitch,  yer  honour — or  as  a  nager's  blushes." 
"O,  Mon  Dieu  !  Mon  Dieu !  said  the  French  tailor. 


118  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

"  Silence !"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Did  you  see  the  weapon  ?"  said  the  Recorder  to  O'Hara. 

"  Blood-an'-turf !  to  be  sure  I  saw  it,"  said  O'Hara,  "glistenin' 
like  a  cat's  eye,  or  the  scales  of  a  herrin'  in  the  dark !  and,  be 
all  that's  holy  !  I  felt  it,  too !  Why,  only  for  the  way  I  de 
fended  meself  with  me  stick,  he'd  have  run  it  through  me 
body,  jist  as  yer  honour  'ud  run  a  pin  through  a  musquito ! 
Jis  look  at  the  little  sharp  nose  of  him,  yer  honour !  Doesn't 
he  look  like  a  spalpeen  that  wouldn't  meet  a  man  in  a  dacint 
stand-up  fight,  with  his  fists  or  a  shillelagh  ;  but  one  that  'ud 
be  afther  takin'  a  dirty  advantage  of  a  dacint  boy,  by  committin' 
suicide  on  him  in  the  dark  ?" 

During  the  delivery  of  this  exordium  by  O'Hara,  the  little 
Frenchman  agonised  as  if  he  had  received  religion  at  a  camp 
meeting,  or  as  if  his  shoulders  and  muscles  were  worked  by 
invisible  wires,  and  gave  the  witness  the  benefit  of  a  consider 
able  number  of  sacres,  which  he  delivered  in  an  under  tone. 

"  He  did  not  inflict  any  severe  wounds  on  you — did  he  ?" 
said  the  Recorder. 

u  Wound  me,  and  I  havin'  a  stick  in  me  hand  !"  said  O'Hara, 
with  surprise.  "  That's  a  disgrace  that  niver  occurred  to  the 
only  son  of  Mick  O'Hara  (the  Lord  be  good  to  him!)  yet! — 
Wound  me! — oh,  bat  her  shin  /" 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  this  charge  ?"  said  the  Recorder 
to  the  bandy-legged  Frenchman,  who  seemed  to  pant  for  an 
opportunity  to  contradict  O'Hara. 

"  Be  gar  !"  said  the  Frenchman,  shaking  his  head  at  the  Re 
corder  and  his  hands  at  O'Hara,  "  be  gar !  it  be  all  one  grand 
lie  humbug ! — Dere,  dere  be  de  only  weepon  me  carry  !"  pull 
ing  out  from  the  breast  of  his  coat  a  formidable  tailor's  needle, 
technically  called  a  button-needle  !  u  He  be  one  so  big  cow 
ard,  he  thought  it  be  one  large  sabre." 

Several  witnesses  corroborated  the  French  tailor's  story :  he 
was  discharged,  and  O'Hara  was  reprimanded  for  being  guilty 
of  such  an  ocular  error  as  mistaking  a  tailor's  needle  for  a 
bowie-knife! 


GEORGE  WASHLVGTOX  WIMPLE.         .  119 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON  WIMPLE. 

THE  MAN  WHO  PREFERS  THE  BALLAD  TO  THE  BALLOT. 

ABOUT  last  night's  noon,  an  individual  might  be  seen,  and 
was  by  the  watchman  seen,  wending  his  way  up  St.  Charles 
street.  His  course  was  neither  directly  direct  nor  regularly 
irregular.  It  might  have  been  a  preparatory  practice  of  the 
new  Polka  dance,  or  a  succession  of  endeavours  to  kill  cock 
roaches  creeping  on  the  banquette.  Now  the  Charlies,  who 
are  all  strict  constructionists,  and  who  enforce  the  letter  of 
the  municipal  ordinances  with  as  much  rigour  and  exactness 
as  the  Medes  and  Persians  did  their  laws,  never  interfere  with 
a  man's  manner  of  walking,  so  long  as  he  is  able  to  walk  at 
all ;  for  our  city  lawgivers,  with  a  wisdom  and  liberality  above 
all  price  and  beyond  all  praise,  have  left  it  to  every  man  to 
move  along  as  best  he  can,  and  have  laid  down  no  legal, 
definite  mode  of  locomotion.  But  although  they  have  so  ruled 
it  with  regard  to  men's  walking,  they  are  more  strict  with  ref 
erence  to  men's  talking,  after  a  certain  hour  of  night,  whether 
that  talking  be  in  tune  or  out  of  tune — a  sermon  or  a  serenade 
— a  political  speech  or  a  temperance  exhortation.  It  was  in 
the  enforcement  of  this  peace-preserving  principle  that  the 
watchman  at  the  corner  of  Poydras  and  St.  Charles  streets,  in 
a  tone  of  imperative  official  authority,  bade  our  hero  "shut 
up  !"  who  had  just  then  been  singing  a  song  equal  in  metre 
and  melody  to  any  of  our  modern  political  lyrics,  the  chorus 
of  which  ran  thus 

' '  Hurra  for  the  stripes  and  stars, 

Hurra  for  annexation, 
Hurra  for  our  Yankee  tars, 

And  our  '  universal  nation.'  " 

"  I  orders  you  agin  to  shut  up,"  said  the  watchman. 
"There  aint  no  two  ways  about  it — you  must  either  shut  up 
yourself  or  I'll  shut  you  up  like  winkin'.  Some  folks  think 
watchmen  aint  nobody,  but  I'll  let  you  know,  old  feller,  that 
they  are  somebody,  so  sing  small." 

"  Charles,"  said  the  vocalist,  looking  half-vacant! y,  half- 
scrutinizingly  into  the  face  of  the  watchman,  "Charles,  thou 


120  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

/ 

art  a  waking  somnambulist,  a  moving  mass  of  mindless  matter. 
Thou  hast  got  speculation  in  thine  eye  but  thou  hast  got  no 
music  in  thy  soul.  Thou  art  impenetrable  to  the  tones  that 
wake  the  thoughts  to  tenderness — thou  art  impervious  to  the 
strains  that  rouse  and  stir  up  the  slumbering  spirit  of  patriotism. 
Thou " 

"O,  that's  all  very  fine,"  said  the  watchman,  cutting  off  the 
peroration  of  the  speaker,  "  it's  all  very  fine,  but  it  aint  no 
part  of  the  ord'nance.  Now,  disturbin'  the  peace  is,  which 
consequently  brings  you  within'  the  act  protectin'  the  citizens 
in  the  natural  enjoyment  of  their  sleep." 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  singer  told  the  watchman  that  he 
transcended  his  duty ;  that  his  was  an  unjust  interference 
with,  and  violation  of,  the  rights  of  a  citizen  ;  the  watchman 
"  toted"  him  off  to  the  calaboose. 

"  What's  your  name  ?"  said  thie  officer  of  the  night. 

"  George  Washington  Wimple,"  replied  the  prisoner. 

"  The  watchman  charges  you,"  said  the  officer,  "  with  dis 
turbing  the  peace." 

"The  watchman  is  a  songless,  soulless  individual,"  said 
Wimple,  "  with  a  mind  as  dark  as  Erebus.  I  was  not  disturb 
ing  the  peace,  sir,  I  was  singing — singing  for  the  million.  I 
was  essaying  to  revive  and  rekindle  the  smouldering  fire  of 
patriotism,  now  almost  extinguished  in  the  breasts  of  our  citi 
zens.  The  time  and  the  occasion  called  for  it.  The  moon 
had  already  passed  its  meridian,  and  time  in  its  unceasing  travel 
had  reached  the  sixty-eighth  anniversary  of  our  national  inde 
pendence.  Who,  sir,  would  not  sing  at  such  a  time  ?  Who 
would  not  send  forth  canticles  burthened  with  patriotic  pride 
on  such  an  occasion  ?  Were  not  those  guns  fired  in  Lafayette 
Square  charged  with  patriotic  powder,  and  was  not  I  charged 
with  patriotic  praise  to  an  extent  that  I  must  go  off  or  burst?" 

"  My  duty  is  to  commit  you  for  the  night,"  said  the  officer. 
"  It  will  rest  with  the  Recorder  to-morrow  morning  to  say 
how  far  you  have  offended  against  the  laws." 

"  I  protest,"  said  Wimple,  "against  this  arbitrary  infringe 
ment  on  the  rights  of  a  citizen — a  patriotic  citizen  who  loves 
nis  country  as  that  black  rascal  Othello  did  his  beautiful  wife, 
not  wisely  but  too  well' — who " 

"  O,  look  here,  Mr. Thingamy,"  said  the  watchman, "nigger 
aint  got  nothin'  to  do  with  makin'  the  ord'nances." 

"I  say  again,"  said  Wimple,  you  have  been  guilty  of  a 
violation  of  my  natural  rights — and  of  the  right  election,  too  ; 


A  MUDDLED   MILLERITE.  121 

because  political  science  has  become  a  branch  of  vocal  music. 
Voting  by  ballot  is  decidedly  vulgar  and  corrupt ;  men  will 
henceforth  be  sung  into  office — election  will  be  by  ballad  and 
not  by  ballot.  What  better  way  is  there,  I  should  like  to 
know,  of  ascertaining  the  voice  of  the  people  than  by  their 
capacity  for  singing  r" 

The  officer  told  him   he  was  not  prepared   to    argue   the 
uestion  with  him  and  locked  him  up.  We  trust  the  Recorder 
will  take  his  patriotism  into  consideration  this  morning,  and 
dispense  with  the  usual  "  thirty  days." 


A  MUDDLED  MILLERITE. 

tt  BILL  BRITTLE  ?"  said  the  Recorder  yesterday. 

"  T-e-s,"  answered  a  fellow  in  the  dock,  who  seemed  as 
bewildered  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  magnetic  slumber. 

"  You  were  found  drunk  last  night,"  said  the  Recorder, 
"and  could  not  find  your  way  home." 

"  I  haint  no  home,"  said  Bill.  "  The  world's  at  an  end, 
and  I'm  an  antediluvian." 

"Oh,  you  have  no  fixed  place  of  residence  then  ?"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  who  has,"  said  Bill.  "  I  thought  I  could 
stand  a  blowing  up  pretty  well — I  have  had  some  experience 
in  that  way,  as  the  old  woman's  tongue  can  testify;  but  last 
night  put  a  finisher  on  every  thing — but  I  suppose  it's  all 
right." 

"  No,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  it  was  not  all  right  for  you  to 
be  lying  in  the  street  at  twelve  o'clock  last  night." 

"  Well,  your  honour,"  said  Bill,  "you  know  I  couldn't  help 
it,  no  how  I  could  fix  it:  you  know,  what  is  to  be  will  be,  as 

Parson  Miller  said  when  he  foretold  the  end  of  the  world 

but  I  suppose  it's  all  right." 

"Then  you  are  a  Millerite,  and  thought,  nd*doubt,  that  you 
would  be  destroyed  last  night,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Thought  /"  said  Bill — "  I  knew  I  would  before  it  had 
happened  at  all.  It  was  all  well  enough  while  the  ascension 
lasted,  but  it  was  cussed  unpleasant  when  we  were  all  pitched 
into  invisible  darkness  :  a  feller  couldn't  move  without  breakin*1 
his  shins  and  fallin'  over  dead  men's  bodies.  I  could  have 
sworn  it  was  down  lelow,  only  it  wasn't  hot  enough  for  that. 


12*2  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

I  don't  see,  squire — I  don't  see  what  occasion  the  world  has 

had  to  kick  up  a  general  fuss  of  this  kind but  I  suppose 

it's  all  right !" 

"You  may  compose  your  nerves,"  said  the  Recorder;  "for 
although  you  may  be  a  gone  case,  the  world  is  still  right  side 
up.  That  very  agreeable  ascension  sensation  you  had,  was 
nothing  more  than  the  operation  of  brandy  toddies  on  the 
brain  ;  and  that  darkness  visible,  which  you  fancied  pervaded 
the  world,  did  not  extend  beyond  the  limits  of  the  watch- 
house." 

"  I  suppose  it's  all  right,"  said  Bill  Brittle ;  but  he  said 
it  in  such  a  tone  that  he  did  not  seem  to  think  it  was. 

"  Yes,  it  is  about  right,"  said  the  Recorder ;  "  but  to  make 
it  righter,  I'll  send  you  down  for  thirty  days." 

Bill  was  taken  out  of  the  court  by  a  watchman,  without 
making  another  observation. 


THE  LOSS  O.F  A  CHARACTER. 

JUST  as  the  clock  struck  ten  yesterday  morning,  a  young 
woman,  wearing  a  profusion  of  red  ribbons  in  her  bonnet,  and 
E  large  McGregor  worsted  shawl,  entered  the  office  of  Re 
corder  Baldwin,  followed  by  a  leering  looking  young  fellow 
in  a  blue  coat  and  pants,  and  wearing  his  hat  in  a  break-my- 
neart,  one-sided  fashion.  The  young  man  in  the  blue  suit 
was  evidently  using  his  most  persuasive  powers  to  prevent 
the  young  woman  who  sported  the  red  ribbons  from  dohi£ 
something  which  she  seemed  intent  on  doing,  and  the  young 
woman  with  the  red  ribbons  in  her  bonnet  and  the  McGregor 
shawl  on  her  shoulders,  seemed  determined  to  disregard  the 
entreaties  of  him  in  blue,  and  to  do  the  something  which  she 
intended  to  do,  at  all  hazards. 

u  Don't  Bridget,  a  cmlila,"  said  the  man  who  wore  his  hat 
slantingdicular,*"  don't  be  after  exposin  a  daycent  boy  in  a 
koort;  and  in  troth  if  the  truth  was  towld,  that's  not  what  I 
dasarve  from  your  mother's  daughter,  and  that's  yourself,"  and 
he  looked  into  Bridget's  blue  eyes  with  a  look  made  up  of 
two  parts  of  love  and  one  part  of  pity. 

u  Ah,  Barney,  avic,"  said  Biddy,  apparently  somewhat  moved 
at  the  pathetic  appeal  of  the  young  fellow  in  the  blue  suit,  yet 
still  determined  to  carry  out  her  principles.  "•  Ah,  thin,  Bar- 


THE   LOSS  OF  A   CHARACTER.  123 

ney,  avic,  it's  little  use  you  have  talkiu  to  me  :  sure  I  wons* 
believed  you'd  no  more  tell  a  lie  than  a  priest,  hut  it's  myself 
that  was  mistaken  in  you,  you  betrayin  decayver." 

All  this  occurred  outside  the  bar,  and  though  began  in  an 
under  tone,  it  ended  in  a  tone  of  voice  loud  enough  to  attract 
the  atten  tion  of  the  court. 

"  What  the  matter,  there  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"O,  it's  mather  enough,'7  said  Bridget,  "here's  a  th  ray  tor 
(pointing  to  Barney)  that  purtinded  to  be  braykin  his  hart 
about  me,  and  if  I  wint  to  a  dance  or  a  party,  he  was  sure  to 
be  there  and  putten  his  comehether  on  me,  j  1st  as  if  his  intui 
tions  was  honest.  Bridget,  asthore,  he'd  say,  your  the  pay  tee 
blossom  of  my  heart,  and  it's  meself  that  'ud  be  the  happy  boy 
for  ever  and  a  day,  if  you  war  only  to  say  you  love  me." 

"  What's  your  name  ?"  asked  the  court. 

"  Bridget  Boylan,  your  honour,"  said  the  fair  complainant, 
"  and  it's  daycently  I  was  christened  that." 

"  And  what  is  the  young  man's  name  ?"  asked  the  Recorder, 
pointing  to  Barney. 

"  O,  Godee  knows,  what's  his  rale  name,"  said  Bridget, 
"  but  he  calls  himself  Barney  Doud." 

u  Well,  Bridget,"  said  the  Recorder,  u  what  complaint  have 
you  to  make  against  Barney  ?" 

"  O,"  said  Bridget,  in  a  manner  which  told  that  the  <  green- 
eyed  monster'  was  working  within  her,  "  O,  the  thief  of  the 
world  !  the  two  faced  villain !  didn't  I  see  him  as  grayt  as  you 
playse  with  Sally  Farrell  last  evenin,  and  warn't  they  sittin  on 
one  of  the  binches  in  Layfayette  Square  together,  and  he  usin 
all  sorts  of  palaver  to  her,  the  same  as  if  he  intinded  to  make 
her  his  lawful  married  wife." 

"  But  there  is  nothing  criminal  in  setting  on  a  bench  in 
Lafayette  Square  with  Sally  Farrell,"  said  the  Recorder,  u  and 
making  any  declaration  that  is  consistent  with  propriety." 

"  O,  sarra  a  care  I  care  about  that,"  said  Bridget, "  I  wouldn't 
look  the  side  of  the  street  he'd  be,  nor  I  don't  mane  to  have 
one  word  more  to  say  to  him,  hot  or  could,  but  he  has  taken 
my  kracter,  and  I  want  your  honour  to  make  him  return  it !" 

"  O,  that's  a  very  serious  charge — a  very  serious  charge," 
said  the  Recorder,  "  and  one  which  I  have  not  the  power  to 
redress.  If  he  has,  by  detraction  or  otherwise,  injured  your 
character,  you  had  better  sue  him  for  slander.  Our  courts  are 
always  anxious  to  do  justice  to  the  injured,  particularly  when 
one  of  the  gentler  sex  is  in  the  case."  This  compliment  to 


124  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUXE." 

Louisiana  jurisprudence,  and  at  the  same  time  chivalric  senti 
ment  of  the  Recorder,  seemed  to  meet  a  response  in  the  breast 
ot  every  one  in  the  court,  not  even  excepting  the  amorous 
Barney  Doud.  - 

"O,  your  honour  mistakes  me  altogither  intirely.  I  defy 
him,  or  any  body  else,  to  molest  my  kracter  in  the  layst. 
Thanks  be  to  the  Lord,  I'm  as  ould  as  I  am  ;  and  there's  no 
one,  up  to  this  blissid  day,  can  say  black  is  the  white  of  your 
nail,  Bridget  Boylan." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  how  am  I  to  understand 
you.  You  say  he  did  take  your  character,  and  then  again  you 
say  he  did  not?" 

"Well,  of  course,  I  didn't  lave  it  in  his  power  to  say  any 
thing  that  was  bad  of  me,"  said  Bridget,  in  a  spirit  of  conscious 
rectitude,  "  but  didn't  he  snap  me  trash  bag  that  had  in  it  the 
kracter  I  got  from  Father  Madden,  the  priest  in  Ireland,  and  I 
nivir  saw  a  blissid  sight  of  it  since." 

"  O,  then  it  was  of  a  written  document  he  deprived  you," 
said  the  Recorder. 

"  Af  course  it  was,"  said  Bridget. 

"  Oh,  that  entirely  alters  the  case,"  said  the  Recorder, "  how 
ever,  you  can  sue  him  in  one  of  the  civil  courts,  laying  the 
damages  at  whatever  value  you  place  on  the  written  character 
given  you  by  Father  Madden.  But,  Barney,"  said  he  to  the 
gay  Hibernian  Lothario,  u  Barney,  Bridget's  certificate  can  be 
of  no  use  to  you — why  do  you  not  return  it  to  her  ?" 

"  Ah,  sure  your  honour,""  said  Barney,  "  it  all  grew  out  of 
a  bit  of  fun,  and  I  had  no  more  harm  in  takin  it  than  I  would 
in  sayin  me  prayers  ;  troth  Bridget  needn't  make  such  a  hub 
bub  about  nothin,  for  there's  nothin  ill  sed  that's  not  ill  taken, 
and  there's  nothin  ill  taken  that's  not  ill  intinded.  I  was  only 
keepin  the  lines  till  Briget  forgot  all  about  Sally  Farrell  and 
the  binch  in  Lafayette  Square — (And  here  Barney  gave  an  arch 
smile.) — She's  the  best  natured  craythur  in  the  world,  only 
when  she  takes  the  sulks  now  and  agin." 

uDo  you  promise  to  return  her  character?"  asked  the 
Recorder. 

u  Be  all  manner  o'  manes,"  answered  Barney,  "  she  must 
have  it  afore  I  take  bit,  bite  or  sup." 

This  seemed  to  satisfy  all  parties,  though  it  was  evidentT 
from  Bridget's  manner,  that  she  did  not  forget  Sally  Farrell 
and  the  bench  of  Lafayette  Square. 


A  BRANDY  AND  PEPPERMINT  PARTY  BROKEN  UP.    125 


A  BRANDY  AND  PEPPERMINT  PARTY  BROKEN  UP. 

"MicK  MALLEN,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Yis,  sir,"  said  a  man  in  the  box,  with  a  sunburnt  face,  no 
coat,  and  seedy  trousers. 

"  You  are  charged,  Mr.  Mallen,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  with 
beating  your  wife." 

"O  faix,  yer  honour,"  said  Mick,  "the  batin'  was  all  the 
other  way.  Whoever  was  fightin',  I  resaved  the  blows !" 

"  Yis,  I'll  swear  ye  sthruck  me,  ye  desavin'  thief  ye ;  arid 
I'll  swear  me  life  agin  Mary  Martin,  the  hussy,  too." 

This  was  uttered  by  a  woman  with  a  very  red  face,  and  a 
very  sharp  nose,  and  a  very  "fighting"  sort  of  an  eye,  who 
proved  to  be  the  spouse  of  Mr.  Mallen. 

"  O,  ye're  a  darlint,"  said  Mick.  "  Blur-an'-ages  !  isn't  it  a 
pity  I  can't  get  a  repale  of  the  union  from  you!" 

u  State  your  complaint,  madam,"  said  the  Recorder,  "and 
do  so  in  a  quiet  and  collected  manner." 

u  O  to  be  sure  I  will,  yer  honour,"  said  Mrs.  Mallen,  looking 
shillelaghs  at  Mick — "  to  be  sure  I  will.  Well,  as  soon  as  me 
lad  there  come  home  from  work  last  night,  I  had  his  supper, 
snug  and  warm,  ready  for  him;  and  there  I  sat,  jist  as  if  I 
war  his  slave,  till  he  tuck  it,  helpin'  him  to  the  tay,  a  nice  bit 
of  a  rasher,  and  every  thing  on  the  table.  So  whin  he  was 
done,  and  1  claned  up  the  things — 'Mick,'  says  1, 'Nancy 
Fenerty,'  says  I,  '  says  she  wants  to  see  me,'  says  I ;  '  so  I've 
a  mind  to  put  on  me  cap  and  shawl,'  says  I,  '  and  go  see  what 
she  wants — may  be  she  hard  from  me  brother  Billy,  says  I.'" 

"  Come  to  the  assault,  Mrs.  Mallen,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"O  thin  it's  not  so  asy,  yer  honour,"  replied  Mrs.  Mallen, 
"  for  a  poor,  wake  woman  like  me  to  come  to  any  thing." 

"Yis,  Biddy,"  interrupted  Mick,  "ye  war  mighty  wake 
intirely  whin  ye  gave  me  this  Donnelly  (a  thump)  undher  the 
eye.  Be  gor,  ye  couldn't  do  it  purtier  if  ye'd  studied  undher 
O'Rourke,  the  boxer !" 

"  Silence,  sir !"  said  the  Recorder.  "  Let  the  woman  tell 
her  story :  I  only  wish  her  to  be  brief  about  it." 

"  Well,  yer  honour,"  said  Mrs.  Mallen,  "  as  I  was  sayin',  1 
puts  on  me  cap  and  cloak,  and  towld  me  gay,  sootherin'  Mick 
there,  that  1  wouldn't  be  back  till  nine  o'clock.  But  what  'ud 


126  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

you  have  of  it,  alania — Nancy  Fenerty  was  out  whin  I  got 
there,  and  back  I  comes, — and  who  does  I  see  with  me  own 
two  eyes,  sittin'  side-be-side,  in  me  own  house,  and  at  me  own 
table,  but  me  bowld  Mick  there,  and  that  brazen-faced  hussy 
Mary  Martin,  and  they  two  sittin'  as  cosy  as  ye  plase, 
dhrinkin'  their  brandy  and  peppermint !  '  Good  evenin',  Mis 
sus  Mallen,'  says  the  doxy,  as  palaverin'  as  ye  plase.  c  Yer 
sarvint,  ginteels,'  says  meself,  quite  purlite  like.  '  Biddy,' 
says  Mick,  thinkin'  to  pass  the  thing  off  as  asy  as  if  it  war  the 
priest  of  the  parish  that  war  in  it — '  Biddy,'  says  he,  4  Mary 
called  for  to  see  ye,  and  as  ye  warn't  within,  I  thought  I 
couldn't  let  her  go  without  axin'  her  to  take  a  dhrop  o'  sotne- 
thin',  but  she  tells  me  that  she's  jined  the  timperance  society.' 
Well,  yer  honour,  I  couldn't  howld  meself  any  longer;  so 
says  I,  '  O  thin,  ye  desavin'  blackguard  ye,'  says  I,  '.  is  that 
the  way  you  sarve  me  the  very  moment  1  turn  me  back  !7  and 
thin,  bein'  intirely  mad  with  him,  I  let  fly  the  pitcher  at  his 
head,  sure  enough ;  and  throth,  if  I  had  that  other  sthreel  I'd 
make  her  bones  sore,  so  I  would  !" 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  have  heard  enough 
from  you  now.  Is  the  watchman  here  that  arrested  this  man  ?" 

The  watchman  now  came  forward.  He  said  he  heard  a 
noise ;  that  Mrs.  Mallen  was  crying  "  murdher !"  that  he  went 
to  see  what  was  the  matter,  when  she  complained  of  being 
beaten  by  her  husband,  whom  he  then  arrested. 

"  Well,  1  now  discharge  him,"  said  the  Recorder.  "  It  is  the 
woman  that  should  have  been  arrested;  and  if  I  hear  any 
more  from  her,  I  will  bind  her  to  keep  the  peace." 

Mrs.  Mallen  then  left  the  court,  threatening  to  give  Miss 
Martin  "jessy"  when  she  would  next  meet  her. 


BOOT  BLACKS  AND  BAD  TIMES. 

THE  case  of  Johnson  vs.  Brown  created  considerable  amuse 
ment  in  the  Recorder's  court  yesterday.  The  plaintiff  is  no 
other  than  the  veritable  Sam  Jonsing,  the  sable  philosopher  whose 
"  wise  saws  and  modern  instances"  we  have  so  often  recorded 
in  the  Picayune.  The  defendant  is  also  a  "  gemman  ob  colour," 
and  boasts  of  direct  descent  from  Prince  Lee-boo. 

"Johnson!"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  I'm  dar,  massa,"  said  Sam. 

w  Brown  !"  said  ihc  Recorder. 


BOOT  BLACKS  AND  BAD  TIMES.  127 

"'Es,  sar,"  said  the  defendant,  and  both  took  their  positions 
immediately  before  the  bench. 

"  Well,  Johnson,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  let  us  hear  what  you 
have  got  to  say." 

"  Why  he  aint  got  nuffin  to  say  'ginst  me,"  said  Brown, 
"  'cause — " 

"  Silence,"  said  the  Recorder,  « let  me  hear  the  plaintiff" 

"  Yes,  Massa  'Corder,"  said  Sam,  "if  you  hears  me  I  tells  de 
vhole  truth,  and  nuffin  'cordin  to  the  truth,  sartin." 

"  Go  on,  then,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Wai,  dis  is  it,"  said  the  sage  Sam ;  "  you  sees  I  keeps  a 
boot  polishin  'stablisment  in  Cussomhouse  street.  I'se  pat 
ronized  by  de  fus  families  and  use  'clusively  my  own  patent 
rain-resistin'  dust  dispellin'  blackin.  It's  a  great  inwention, 
I  tells  you.  I  sent  a  pot  ob  it  to  Queen  Wictoria,  but  as 
I  dated  my  letter  from  Cussomhouse  street,  she  mistook 
it  for  sasipreller  and  pills,  and  took  it  'ternally ;  but  as  there 
wasn't  nothin'  pernicious  in  it  it  didn't  do  her  witals  no  harm; 
'stead  ob  dat  it  has  given  de  prince  of  Whales  quite  de  polish, 
'sides — " 

"  Stop,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  cannot  sit  here  to  hear  you 
expatiate  on  the  virtues  of  your  patent  blackening;  you  charge 
this  man  with  committing  a  breach  of  the  peace — come  to  that 
at  once." 

"I'll  'splain  all  dat  like  a  knife,  massa,"  said  Sam.  "Den 
to  come  to  de  pint,  I  'ploys  dis  nigger  and  'gages  to  teach  him 
de  boot  polishin  bizriess  on  de  Johnsonian  scienterific  princer- 
ples.  Wai,  affer  givin  him  a  trial  I  finds  he  haint  got  de  genus 
to  rise  to  de  top  ob  de  purfeshun,  and  dat  he  can't  shine,  no 
how,  so  I  'vises  him  to  gib  it  up  and  try  some  oder  bizness 
wot  don't  require  so  much  nat'ral  talent — so  much  ob  de 
Promethean  spark,  as  poets  call  it — as  ours  does.  So  when 
I  tells  him  dis  he  gibs  me  sarse,  and  threatens  to  'flict  personal 
chastisement  on  me  if  J  don't  pay  him  $5  a  week." 

"  Yes,  and  you  promised  to,"  said  Brown. 

"  I  know  I  did,"  said  Sam,  "  but  it  was  perwiden  you  show 
ed  de  dewelopment  ob  genus." 

"  Well,  can't  you  afford  to  pay  him  four  dollars  a  week  ?'* 
said  the  Recorder. 

"I  cannot  Masser  'Corder"  said  Sam,  emphatically.    "  You 

es  there's  a  wast  reverlution  in  our  purfeshun  lately  :  fuss  de 

prunellas  gabe  us  a  lick  back,  and  den  de  French  patent  leder 

used  us  up  alPgether.     Now  I  goes  in  for  puttin  a  tariff  on 


128  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

both  dese  articles,  dat'll  'xclude  dem  from  all  competition  wid 
de  trade ;  and — "  "  0  stop  this,"  said  the  Recorder,  his  patience 
worn  out  by  the  garrulous  Sam  Jonsing,  uan  exposition  of 
your  views  of  the  tariff  law  is  not  pertinent  to  this  complaint. 
I  shall  bind  Brown  over  to  keep  the  peace,  and  he  may  sue  you 
civilly  for  the  wages  which  he  claims  to  be  due." 


PLEASANT  NEIGHBOURS. 

THERE  was  nothing  before  the  Criminal  Court  yesterday  but 
an  assault  and  battery  case.  It  was  one  of  the  usual  and  every 
day  class  in  which  "  agreeable  neighbours"  turn  out  to  be  very 
disagreeable  acquaintances.  It  was  Jones  vs.  Smith  and  Smith 
vs.  Jones.  The  domicil  of  Smith  was  only  divided  from  that 
of  Jones  by  a  thin  partition,  which  brought  the  street  door  of 
Jones  in  close  contiguity  with  that  of  Smith.  Smith's  children 
used  to  sit  on  Jones'  door  step  when  mid-day  sun  was  shining, 
and  make  castles  without  interruption  of  bits  of  broken  earthen 
ware  ;  and  Jones'  favourite  terrier  dog  and  tabby  cat  had  the 
run  of  Smith's  kitchen  without  ever  been  struck  with  the  tongs 
or  having  an  old  slipper  thrown  afLerthem.  Mrs.  S.  and  Mrs. 
J.  used  to  go  together  in  the  morning  to  St.  Mary's  Market ; 
they  would  discuss  the  merits  of  their  several  neighbours  as 
they  went  along — speak  of  the  imprudence  of  Miss  Sowell  in 
going  to  the  play  with  Green  the  grocer,  and  how  the  widow 
Wilkins  left  herself  open  to  the  invidious  remarks  of  the  ill- 
natured  by  receiving  the  visits  of  young  Darkley,  who  did 
nothing  in  particular  for  a  living.  If  Mrs.  Jones  had  buck 
wheat  cakes  for  breakfast,  she  always  sent  in  one  to  Mrs.  Smith 
and  Mrs.  Smith  was  never  known  to  have  an  oyster  stew  of 
an  evening  that  she  did  not  divide  it  with  Mrs.  Jones.  The 
reciprocity  of  good  feeling  that  existed  between  Mr.  Jones  and 
Mr.  Smith  was  as  cordial  and  familiar  as  that  which  was  mu 
tually  entertained  by  their  respective  helpmates.  Jones,  when 
u  na'  fou'  but  unco  happy,"  frequently  shook  Smith's  hand 
and  told  him  he  was  a  d — n  good  fellow — and  Smith  had  so 
high  an  opinion  of  Jones,  as  a  man  and  a  gentleman,  that  he 
proposed  him  as  a  member  of  the  Happy  Husband  Society,  to 
which  honourable  fraternity  he  was  unanimously  elected  But, 
as  beatitude  such  as  the  Joneses  and  the  Smiths  and  the  Smiths 
a»*J  the  Joneses  enjoyed,  is  vouchsafed  to  no  one  in  perpetu- 


"  And  thin,  bein'  intirely  mad  with  him,  I  let  fly  the  pitcher  at  his  head." 

Page  126. 


PLEASANT    NEIGHBOURS.  129 

ity  in  this  world  of  sin  and  Svvartwouting — of  rascality  and 
repudiation — it  was  abruptly  and  too  prematurely  sundered  by 
the  force  of  circumstances  from  them. 

On  Thursday  evening  the  coloured  girl  was  seen  by  Mrs. 
Smith  taking  a  bowl  of  something  into  Mrs.  Jones' — it  might 
have  been  the  material  for  an  oyster  stew,  or  it  might  not — 
but  a  certain  savoury  smell  that  was  shortly  afterwards  inhaled 
by  Mrs.  S.,  as  she  stood  at  her  door,  removed  all  her  doubts 
relative  to  the  contents  of  the  bowl.  But  the  usual  act  of 
hospitable  and  neighbourly  courtesy  was  not  extended  to  her. 
The  spirit  of  revenge  at  once  seized  her  soul.  She  determined 
never  from  that  moment,  to  send  Mrs.  Jones  a  hot  buckwheat 
cake — never  walk  to  market  in  company  with  her — never  to 
let  her  terrier  dog  or  tabby  cat  cross  her  threshold.  She,  like 
Othello,  was  firm  and  decided  in  her  resolve — she  was  not 
going 

"  To  follow  still  the  changes  of  the  moon 

With  fresh  suspicions.     No :  to  be  once  in  doubt 

Was  once  to  be  resolved." 

She  went  to  bed  and  arose  the  next  morning  full  of  wrath 
and  fury  against  Mrs.  Jones,  Mr.  Jones  and  all  over  which  they 
claimed  ownership.  The  tabby  cat  was  soon  made  to  squall 
from  the  effect  of  a  blow  of  the  tongs,  and  if  she  had  not  had 
the  life  of  a  cat  she  would  have  lost  it  on  the  occasion ;  and 
shortly  after  the  broom  handle  sent  Jones'  dog  howling  home 
to  his  mistress.  Mrs.  Jones  retaliated  by  raising  a  blush  in 
little  Tommy  Smith's  cheek  with  a  slap  of  her  open  hand,  and 
thus  the  war  was  vigorously  commenced  on  both  sides.  Each 
now  called  into  requisition  her  wordy  weapon — the  tongue — 
which  women  in  general  can  wield  to  such  advantage.  Mrs. 
S.  and  Mrs.  J.  was — what  we  shall  not  tell  our  readers — 
and  Mrs.  J.,  in  retaliation,  was  equally  eloquent. — Jones  now 
went  to  the  door  and  told  Mrs.  J.  to  go  in,  and  told  Mrs.  S. 
something  that  excited  the  pugnacity  of  Mr.  Smith,  who  jumped 
out  on  the  banquette  and  put  himself  in  a  pugilistic  attitude 
before  Jones,  who  at  once  pitched  into  him  like  "  a  thousand 
of  brick." 

The  woman  ranged  themselves  on  either  side,  and  a  quad 
ruple  matrimonial  fight  at  once  commenced,  and  was  only  con 
cluded  by  the  interposition  of  the  police  officers. 

The  judge,  having  heard  the  complaints  and  counter  com 
plaints  of  the  parties ;  having  seen  the  black  eye  of  Jones  and 
the  bloody  nose  of  Smith,  and  having  listened  to  the  volubility 


1UO  PICKINGS  FROM   THE  "PICAYUNE." 

with  which  the  "  ladies"  urged  their  respective  cause,  in  the 
double  capacity  of  complainant  and  defendant,  he  ordered  that 
all  the  parties  be  bound,  in  good  and  sufficient  security,  to 
keep  the  peace — the  Smiths  to  the  Joneses,  and  the  Jonesea 
to  the  Smiths. 


COOKERY  AND  CALUMNY. 

RESTAUT  VerSUS  JONES. 

WHEN  a  few  ordinary  cases  were  disposed  of  yesterday,  the 
Recorder  called  "  Jacques  Restaut  ?" 

"Oui,  Monsieur  le  President,"  replied  the  owner  of  a  voice 
in  the  crowd  outside  the  bar,  which  was  as  shrill  and  as  sharp 
as  the  sound  of  a  tin  trumpet,  and  about  as  musical  as  a  jews- 
harp  with  a  broken  tongue. 

"  John  Jones  ?"  said  the  Recorder,  and  presently  John  Jones 
answered  "  'ere,  your  honour !"  Both  plaintiff  and  defendant 
made  their  way  up  to  the  bench. 

The  former,  Mr.  Restaut,  is  the  proprietor  of  a  cookshop 
down  town  ;  he  wore  a  brown  paper  cap,  a  white  roundabout 
and  apron  to  match ;  his  eyes  were  small,  brown  and  restless, 
his  face  was  of  a  sear  and  yellow  leafish  colour,  his  cheeks 
were  puckered  up  like  a  half-closed  fan,  and  he  kept  continually 
stirring  his  head  and  shoulders  as  if  he  were  subject  to  some 
nervous  affection. 

John  Jones,  the  defendant,  is  as  unlike  him  in  personal  ap 
pearance  as  a  large  pumpkin  is  unlike  a  Havana  banana.  He  is 
a  cockney  of  the  purest  water ;  his  round,  ruddy  face  told  of 
roast  beef,  plum-pudding,  brown  stout,  and  Welch-rabbits ;  a 
glance  at  it  would  shame  a  Grahamite  or  teetotaller  out  of  his 
abstinence  principles.  He  was  short,  plump  and  dumpy,  about 
as  broad  across  as  he  was  tall. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Restaut,''  said  the  Judge,  "  what  is  your  com 
plaint  ?" 

u  My  complain  !  Monsieur  le  President,"  said  Restaut,  with 
surprise,  his  shoulders  moving  like  the  piston  rods  of  a  steam 
engine,  and  his  head  in  motion  like  the  image  of  a  mandarin 
in  a  grocer's  window — "  My  complain  !  by  gar  I  got  no  com 
plain  ;  my  head  be  well,  my  stomach  be  well,  I  be  well  all 
over.  It  be  Monsieur  Anglais,  John  Jones  here,  have  the  one 


COOKERY    AND    CALUMNY.  131 


eat-too-much  gran7  complain.  O,  mon  Dieu  !  he  eat,  eat,  eat, 
and  call  for  one  dish  and  t'other  dish — by  gar,  I  fear  he  eat 
myself  up  at  last." 

u  What !  do  you  think  he'd  turn  cannibal  and  eat  a  French 
man  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  Me  links,  Monsieur  le  President,  dat  he'd  eat  de  vera  dia- 
ble  /"  said  Restaut  emphatically,  slapping  his  open  hand  on 
the  lid  of  his  snuff  box. 

"  Yes,"  said  John  Jones,  quite  composedly,  and  not  at  all 
affected  by  the  series  of  charges  which  the  Frenchman  had 
made  against  him — "  yes,  but  I'm  blowed,  Mr.  Monseer,  if  I'd 
eat  your  burned  beef  steaks  nor  your  frog  fricasee,  no  how.' 

"  Silence!"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  want  to^come  at  the  spe 
cific  charge.  Now,  Mr.  Restaut,  you  say  this  man  disturbed 
the  peace  of  your  house,  and  would  not  pay  for  his  breakfast 
— state  how  he  did  so." 

"Oui,  Monsieur  le  President,"  said  Restaut,  at  the  same  time 
throwing  out  his  hands,  raising  his  shoulders  and  sinking  his 
head,  indicative  of  his  willingness  to  proceed,  and  thus  he 
did:— 

"  Veil,  you  see,  this  Monsieur  John  Jones  come  to  my  house, 
and  he  call  for  beefsteak  vera  rare — vera  rare.  I  give  it  to  him 
dressed  English  style,  no  a  la  mode  frajigais — by  gar  he  eat  it 
and  say  it  not  worth  nottin,  it  be  one — what  you  call  fire  not 
burning? — one  cindere,  and  he  call  for  anoder  more  vera  rare  ; 
by  gar,  he  eat  dat  and  say  it  be  one  cindere  too,  and  he  call  for 
anoder  one,  two,  three  more  rarer  ;  and  I  said — 4sare,  I  had  de 
honour  to  be  grand  cook  to  the  Emperor  le  grants  cook,  and 
by  gar  you  take  care  ;  you  shall  no  teach  me  my  business,  de 
grand  art  cuisine.  If  you  wants  one  raw  steak  you  go  to  mar 
ket,  buy  it  from  the  butcher  and  eat  it  dere.  1  no  sell  de  raw 
beefsteak.'  " 

"  Well,  did  he  pay  you  for  what  he  did  take  ?"  asked  the 
Recorder. 

"  No,  he  no  pay  nottin  ;  he  call  for  one  dish,  and  for  two, 
four  dish,  but  he  no  pay  one  picayune,"  replied  Restaut. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  what  have  you  to 
say  to  this  charge  ?  you  appear  to  have  acted  very  strangely." 

^Vy, bless  your vorship's  eyes,"  said  the  defendant — "that 
'ere  story  is  all  gammon.  I'm  blowed  if  it  aint  a  precious 
yarn.  Vy,  your  vorship,  I  couldn't  eat  none  on  his  beefsteaks. 
I'm  blowed  if  they  wasn't  as  dry  and  as  tough  as  a  piece  of 
sole  leather.  I  say,  your  vorship,  I  doesn't  like  to  make  no 


132  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

insinivations,  but  don't  old  'osses  die  about  this  time  in  this  ere 
city  ?" 

"  Sacre  Anglais  /"  muttered  the  Frenchman,  taking  a  su 
perlative  pinch  of  snuff. 

u  Silence,"  said  the  constable. 

"  Go  on,  sir,"  said  the  Recorder. 

u  Veil,  I  haint  got  but  this  ere  to  say,"  continued  Jones, 
"  that  I  couldn't  eat  none  of  his  steaks — he  don't  know  how 
to  give  a  steak  the  first  turn,  your  vorship." 

"  O,  mon  Dieu  /"  ejaculated  the  Frenchman. 

uBe  silent,"  said  the  Recorder  authoritively. 

"  It  aint  no  use,  your  honour,"  said  Jones,  "  for  as  I  tells 
my  wife  Sally,  a  'ooman,  a  parrot  and  a  Frenchman  will  keep 
talking;  there  aint  been  nothing  inwented  yet  to  prevent  it; 
and  I  doubts  myself  if  there  ever  will.  But  as  I  was  saying, 
your  vorship,  I  only  tried  his  beefsteaks — I  couldn't  eat  them. 
Veil,  then,  he  lays  his  gombo  before  me,  and  be  course  I 
couldn't  go  that  neither.  Cause  as  how,  your  honour  sees  I 
took  a  nat'ral  dislike  to  cat's  meat  in  every  shape,  ven  I  vas  a 
little  'un.  Father  gave  me  a  piece  of  weal  pie  one  day  at 
Bart'lemy  fair,  and  I'm  blowed  if  the  materials  warnt  pure 
catflesh." 

"  1  care  nothing  about  your  antipathies  or  predilections," 
said  the  Recorder — "  This  man  charges  you  two  dollars  for 
what  he  dressed  for  you,  whether  you  eat  it  or  not  I  don't 
know,  nor  do  I  care.  But  unless  you  pay  him,  I  shall  fine  you 
$5  for  disturbing  the  peace  of  his  house,  and  he  can  sue  you 
afterwards  for  the  two  dollars." 

A  few  moments  reflection  suggested  to  Mr.  Jones  the  pro 
priety  of  submitting  to  the  compromise  which  the  Recorder 

proposed.  He  paid  the  two  dollars  and  d d  the  optics 

[aside]  of  American  judges  and  French  cooks  and  cookery. 

The  Frenchman  stretched  out  his  hand  to  receive  it  as  po 
litely  as  if  he  was  going  to  lead  a  lady  to  her  place  in  a  cotil 
lion,  gave  Mr.  Jones  a  u  mercie,  monsieur,"  in  exchange  for 
his  two  dollars,  and  holding  his  paper  cap  in  his  right  hand, 
and  bowing  obsequiously  to  the  judge,  he  said,  "  adieu  Mon 
sieur  le  President,  adieu,"  but  no  sooner  had  he  left  the  office 
than  he  gave  a  look  at  respectable  old  Jones,  as  sour  as  some 
of  his  own  pickles,  and  energetically  exclaimed,  "  sacre  le  las 
Anglais!" 


BOB    BATTLE.  133 


BOB  BATTLE. 

BOB  BATTLE  is  what  is  technically  called  a  hard  customer 
He  drinks  hard  ;  he  eats  hard,  for  he  is  often  hard  set  to  get 
any  thing  ta  eat ;  and  he  sleeps  hard,  for  his  bed  is  most  fre 
quently  a  hard  flag  in  the  market.  He  thinks  that  the  man 
who  invented  lunches  is  a  greater  benefactor  to  mankind  than 
Fulton  or  Arkwright,  and  that  the  credit  system,  advocated  by 
politicians,  is  but  a  partial  and  restricted  measure.  To  carry 
it  out  to  its  legitimate  lengths,  he  argues  that  money  should 
never  be  demanded  for  drinks ;  that  toddies,  like  lost  pocket- 
books,  should  be  delivered,  and  a  no  questions  asked." 

Bob,  in  his  peregrinations  last  night,  met  with  that  very 
ubiquitious  character,  the  watchman,  who  is  in  so  many  places 
at  the  same  time. 

•"  Cuss  me  if  I  care,"  said  Bob,  as  He  tottled  along—"  no, 
not  the  fust  red  cent.  Parson  Miller  is  right,  and  I  knows  it. 
Yes,  I  knows  there'll  be  a  general  blow  up,  but  I'm  blowed  if 
I  care.  Let  every  feller  take  care  of  himself,  as  the  donkey 
said  what  danced  among  the  chickens." 

"  Yes,  and  you  had  better  take  care  of  yourself,"  said  the 
watchman,  "  or  else  you  goes  to  the  calaboose,  sure." 

u  Oh,  you're  a  watchman — are  you  ?"  said  Bob. 

"  I  is,"  said  Charley,  "  though  1  doesn't  think  there's  any 
law  what  compels  an  officer  of  the  government  to  answer  ques 
tions  out  of  court. 

UO,  dang  the  government!"  said  Bob;  "  it  aint  no  use." 

"  Hallo,  there  !"  said  Charley ;  "  mind  what  you  say.  Doesn't 
you  know  its  grand  larceny — some  calls  it  fel-o-de-see — to 
speak  against  the  government  ?" 

"  Well,  I  do  say,"  replied  Bob,  "  that  the  government  aint 
no  account :  it  \vont  reciprocate  favours.  1  is  willin'  to  take 
care  of  the  government,  but  the  government  aint  willin'  to  take 
care  of  me.  It  wont  pass  no  law  for  my  protection,  and  it 
protects  Lowell  domestics ; — that  aint  free  trade,  no  how  you 
can  fix  it." 

"O,  you  don't  know  nothing  about  free  trade,"  said  the 
watchman ;  "  besides,  it  aint  a  constitutional  question,  because 
the  council  haint  passed  no  ordinance  on  the  subject.  I  goes 


134  PICKINGS  FROM  THF  "  PICAYUNE." 

in  for  duty,  and  for  every  one  doing  his  duty ;  therefore,  4 
thinks  it's  my  duty  to  take  you  to  the  calaboose." 

"  Hold  on,  Charley;  hold  on !"  said  Bob. 

"  Let  us  settle  this  matter  in  a  genteel  way ;  let  us  arrange  h 
by  treat-y,  as  they  does  in  Washington.  Lend  me  a  dime  anu 
I'll  stand  the  liquors.  Come,  now,  watchey,  don't  back  out. 

"  No,"  said  the  watchman,  "  but  you  shall  back  in  ;"  and, 
as  by  this  time  they  had  got  to  the  Baronne  street  prison,  in  he 
backed  Mr.  Battle  to  the  watchhouse  for  the  night. 


CABMEN'S  CONTENTIONS. 

JOHN  ELLIS  and  Bill  Thorp  were  two  of  the  most  conspicu 
ous  characters  who  appeared  before  Recorder  Baldwin  yester 
day.  They  were  of  the  hobble-de-hoy  age — neither  men  nor 
boys.  Both  of  them  chewed  tobacco  freely,  wore  old  pilot  cloth 
great  coats,  had  shocking  bad  hats,  and  carried  a  long  whip 
acro'ss  the  left  arm,  as  a  soldier  does  his  musket  at  the  "'port 
arms."  They  were  both  knights  of  the  whip,  and  instead  of 
being  lashed  together  in  the  harness  of  friendship,  they  seemed 
actuated  altogether  by  a  spirit  of  envious  rivalry,  and  were  a 
living  illustration  of  the  old  adage — "  two  of  a  trade,"  &c. 

"  You'll  see,"  said  Ellis. 

uYes,  and  you'll  see,"  replied  Thorp.  "  I  isn't  to  be  driven 
from  my  persition  by  you,  no  how  you  can  fix  it." 

"  Well,  I  guess  there's  law  for  the  purtection  of  the  reg'lar 
cabmen,  as  well  as  gemmen  what  follors  other  business,"  said 
Ellis. 

"  We'll  see,"  said  Thorp. 

"  Yes,  we>ll  see,"  replied  Ellis. 

This  episode  was  carried  on  in  the  hall  of  the  court,  aftei 
which  both  parties  went  in  that  the  Recorder  might  pronounce 
his  dictum  on  the  question  at  issue  between  them. 

"  Are  Bill  Thorp  and  John  Ellis  ready  to  go  into  their  case  ?" 
asked  the  Recorder. 

"  I  is  ready,"  said  Thorp. 

"  I  is  always  ready,"  said  Ellis  ;  "  there's  no  back  out  in  me." 

"Then  let  us  hear  what  you  have  got  to  say,"  said  the  Re 
corder. 

"  Well,  I  wants  to  bind  this  here  feller  over  to  keep  the 
peace,"  replied  Ellis 


CABMEN'S  CONTENTIONS.  135 

u  What  has  he  done  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  Well  I'll  tell  you  God's  truth  about  it,"  said  Ellis ;  "  you 
see  I's  gone  lately  into  the  cab  line.  I  drives  one  of  those 
newly  imported  conwenient  wehicles  with  two  wheels,  what 
aint  like  nothing  else  ;  but  they're  reg'lar  flare-up  concerns,  1 
tell  you." 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  the  Recorder  ;  but  what  has  all  this  to  do 
with  the  assault  ?" 

Ci  Why,  just  this  here,"  replied  Ellis,  "  that  when  I  drives  up 
to  the  stand  he  gets  all  the  old  cabmen  to  jaw  me,  and  call  me 
the  milk-and-water  cabman." 

"  What  does  he  mean  by  that  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  Why,  your  honour  sees,  I  was  in  the  milk  business  afore 
I  got  in  the  cab  line,  and  he  has  a  spite  against  me  'cause  I  am 
advancing  in  my  purfession." 

"  But  he  has  not  assaulted  you,  has  he  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

u  Well,  he  has  assaulted  my  'oss,"  replied  Ellis, "  and  that's 
personal,  aint  it  ?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  the  Recorder  j "  but  we'll  hear  what 
Thorp  has  to  say." 

«  If  your  honour  listens,"  said  Thorp,  "I'll  tell  it  while  I'd 
be  cracking  my  whip,  without  any  gammon  whatsumdever. 
You  see  I  knows  all  the  branches  of  our  bisness,  and  a  wery 
critical  bisness  it  is  if  your  horses  aint  got  a  proper  mouth. 
I've  driv'  a  one  horse  wagon,  a  coach  and  pair,  and  at  one 
time  driv'  an  omnibus  and  four  for  a  whole  day,  and  had  but 
one  break  down  ;  now  I  asks  your  honour  if  it's  fair  for  a  feller 
like  this  here,  vot's  never  had  a  more  scientific  job  than  driving 
a  milk  cart,  to  intrude  himself  on  the  bisness  and  take  em 
ployment  from  the  reg'lar  hands.  Is  it  honour  bright,  your 
honour  ?  Haint  cabmen  and  coachmen  got  wested  rights  as 
veil  as  other  folks  ?  Ve  has — '  ve  knows  our  rights,  and 
knowin',  dares  maintain  'em,'  as  the  feller  said  at  the  political 
meetin'  t'other  night — and  I'm  bio  wed  if  ve  don't." 

u  O,  I  see,"  said  the  Recorder, "  all  this  has  originated  from 
a  spirit  of  rivalry  in  business." 

u  No,"  said  Ellis,  u  but  this  'ere  feller  goes  in  for  monopo 
lies  and  chartered  privileges  ;  he' s  against  fair  competition  in 
business. 

"  I  have  heard  enough  now,"  replied  the  Recorder,  "  to 
know  what  you  and  he  would  be  driving  at.  Let  both  of  you 
go  and  drive  your  cabs,  and  if  one  of  you  assault  the  other  I 
shall  give  the  injured  party  redress." 


136  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

They  both  cracked  their  whips  as  they  left  the  office,  and 
like  politicians  in  cases  of  doubtful  elections,  each  seemed  to 
claim  the  decision  as  a  victory. 


AN  OBSOLETE  IDEA. 

"  WHAT  are  you  ?"  said  the  Recorder  yesterday  to  a  nonde 
script  looking  character,  who  stood  up  in  the  dock  before  him. 

u  I  aint  nothing,"  said  Bill  Button — for  such  was  his  name. 

"  You  are  nothing,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"No,  I  aint,"  said  Bill;  "I'm  an  hobselete  idear.  I  guess 
as  how  the  vatchman  took  me  to  be  the  vonderful  lion  or  the 
Bengal  tiger,  'cause  he  stirred"  me  up  vith  a  long  pole ;  but  I 
aint  nobody,  and  haint  got  no  friends." 

"  What  do  you  follow  for  a  living  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  I  follers  nothing,  and  I  don't  live  at  all !"  replied  Bill . 
"  I  exists  on  the  mysterious  principles  of  wilality,  and  am  a 
teetotaller  from  compulsion." 

"  Why,  you  are  quite  a  character,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"No,  I  aint  a  character,  neither,"  said  Bill :  "  1  haint  got  a 
character,  no  how.  I'd  have  no  objection  to  go  in  cahoot  vith 
a  decent  feller  for  a  character,  but  I  haint  got  funds  to  pur 
chase  on  my  own  account." 

"  Well,  I  shall  send  you  to  the  workhouse  for  thirty  days," 
said  the  Recorder.  "  Perhaps,  when  you  comes  out  you  will 
find  times  easier." 

Bill  was  forthwith  walked  off  by  a  watchman. 


JACK  GALLAGHER; 

OR,  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  A  MESMERIC   SLUMBER. 

ANY  one  who  visited  the  police  office  yesterday  could  not 
have  failed  to  notice  the  little  man  who  occupied  the  seat  at 
the  extreme  end  of  the  dock,  to  the  left.  It  was  easy  to  per 
ceive,  as  the  charge  proved,  that  he  was  a  striking  character. 
Like  Diogenes  in  the  tub,  he  seemed  wrapt  in  thought.  His 
feet  were  perched  on  the  sill  of  the  railing  before  him,  his 
elbows  rested  on  his  knees,  his  hands  supported  his  chin  and 
his  fingers  spread  out  over  his  face.  There  was  a  round,  bald 


JERRY  GALLAGHER.  137 

spot  on  the  crown  of  his  head  which  made  him  look  like  a 
Capuchin  friar,  but  his  nose,  which  seemed  to  be  ornamented 
by  several  ripe  strawberries,  destroyed  all  illusion  relative  to 
a  monkish  life  or  abstemious  habits. 

"  Jerry  Gallagher !"  said  the  Recorder. — "  Jerry  Gallagher," 
echoed  the  policeman  •,  but  there  was  none  to  answer  "  here, 
sir!"  The  clerk  of  the  court  took  the  night  watch  report  and 
commenced  reading  it  over,  to  see  if  the  name  was  not  on  it, 
or  if  there  was  any  mistake  in  the  matter.  There  was  none — 
for  there  stood  Jerry's  sponsorial  name  and  sirname,  in  as 
good  chirography  as  the  sergeant  who  took  the  charge  could 
indite.  "Jerry  Gallagher!"  was  called  out  again,  and  again 
there  was  no  answer.  The  officer  then  commenced  putting 
the  question  to  the  prisoners  severally,  u  Are  you  Jerry  Gal 
lagher?"  "Are  you  Jerry  Gallagher ?"  till  he  came  to  the 
real  Simon  Pure,  and  finding  him  somewhat  under  the  influ 
ence  of  Morpheus,  he  gave  him  a  shake  and  cried  out  in  a 
higher  pitch  of  voice  than  he  had  before  spoken  in,  "  Are  you 
Jerry  Gallagher  ?" 

"  O,  divii's  in  it,  how  inquisitive  you  are,"  said  Jerry,  "  ask 
me  no  questions  and  Til  tell  you  no  lies.  Can't  you  lit  me 
injoy  me  mesmeric  slumber;  begor  I  was  in  me  glory.  I 
thought  I  was  at  home  at  the  fair  of  Bally  kill  duff,  in  ould 
Ireland,  and  that  every  thing  looked  as  nat'ral  as  it  did  before 
Father  Mathew  converted  the  people  into  mimbers  of  the 
timperance  society,  and  before  Dan  O'Connell  began  to  praych 
up  l  passive  resistance.'  I  mane  the  good  old  times  whin, 
instead  of  passive  resistance,  we  offered  active  resistance  to  our 
friends  and  foes  indiscriminately,  and  arranged  all  our  little 
difficulties  by  punishing  the  police  and  the  poteen,  and  taychin7 
phrenology  on  first  principles  by  raising  bumps  quite  nat'ral 
entirely  with  the  shillelah.  Oh,  the  L,ord  save  us !  how  the 
world  is  degeneratin' — it'll  be  soon  next  to  nothin'." 

"Stand  up  there,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  O,  bad  scran  to  me,"  said  Jerry,  "  If  I'll  stand  it  any 
longer;  begor  I  b'lceve  your  mesmerism,  animal  magnetism, 
or  whatever  you  call  it,  is  like  the  remains  of  Bill  Buckley's 
flitch  of  bacon — all  ^ammon.^ 

"You  have  not  been  brought  here  to  discuss  the  merits  of 
mesmerism,"  said  the  Recorder,"  you  are  charged  with  com 
mitting  an  assault  and  battery  on  this  man  here,"  pointing  to 
a  person  who  stood  inside  the  bar,  and  whose  face  was  all 
blue  and  green,  like  the  sea  scene  of  a  theatre.  "  See,"  said 


138  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

the  Recorder,  again  addressing  Jerry,  and  again  pointing  to 
the  third  party,  "  See  the  condition*  in  which  yon  have  left 
that  man's  eyes." 

"  Av  coorse  I  see  it,"  said  Jerry,  «  but  didn't  I  do  it  for  the 
advancement  of  science — it  was  altogither  an  intillictual  opera 
tion,  'pon  me  conscience — it  was,  I  assure  you — don't  you  see 
how  well  I  magnei-eye^sd  him  ? 

The  facts  turned  out  to  be  that  Jerry  was  prevailed  on  by  a 
fellow  who  affected  to  be  a  professor  of  animal  magnetism,  to 
undergo  the  operation  necessary  to  bring  about  a  mesmeric 
slumber;  it  was  a  failure,  and  Jerry,  having  divers  and  sundry 
times  in  his  life  been  magnetized  by  the  crathur,  thought  he 
would  have  recourse  to  it  in  this  instance.  He,  therefore, 
again  tried  the  experiment  and  found  it  highly  successful.  It 
was  while  in  a  state  of  "  glorious  uncertainty"  thus  brought 
about,  and  not  under  the  influence  of  ahimal  magnetism,  that 
he  met  the  man  with  the  battered  face  and  black  eyes.  Mis 
taking  him  for  one  of  a  rival  faction,  and  believing  while  he 
was  in  Girod  street  that  he'  was  actually  at  the  fair  of  Bally- 
killduff,  he  operated  on  him  to  some  purpose,  as  the  marks  on 
his  face  showed. 

The  Recorder  took  the  affidavit  against  Jerry,  who  gave  bail 
for  his  appearance  to  answer  to  the  charge  of  assault  and  bat- 
iery  before  the  criminal  court. 


BILL  BLUMMELL. 

HAVE  you  ever  seen  a  pig  in  a  parlour,  a  cat  in  a  pond,  a 
cockney  on  horseback,  or  a  goose  on  ice  ?  If  you  have  you 
can  form  a  faint  conception  of  the  manner  in  which  a  true- 
bred,  down-right  jack  tar  progresses  on  terra  firma,  if  he 
chance  to  be  three  sheets  in  the  wind.  It  is  all  reeling,  and 
keeling,  and  rolling  with  him.  Now  he  lurches  and  now  he 
careens;  now  he  keeps  to  leeward  and  now  to  windward; 
now  he  goes  right  "afore"  the  wind,  and  the  next  moment  he 
backs  his  tack.  If  a  log-book  were  onl^  kept  of  his  voyage, 
what  a  droll  affair  it  would  be ! 

Bill  Bkimmell  is  a  case  in  point.  Bill  appeared  every  inch 
a  sailor,  and  there  was  therefore  nothing  peculiar  about  him. 
His  hat  was  glazed,  with  a  small  leaf,  as  every  sailor's  hat  has ; 
his  jacket  was  blue  and  pitchy,  just  like  every  sailor's  jacket; 


BILL  BLUMMELL.  139 

his  neck'kerchief  was  black  and  tied  in  a  swivel  knot,  as  usual, 
and  his  trousers  were  canvass  and  had  no  seam  on  the  outside 
of  the  leg.  We  were  in  error,  however,  in  saying  that  there 
was  nothing  peculiar  about  Bill — there  was,  and  he  felt  there 
was. — Bill  wore  a  vest — yes,  he  actually  wore  a  vest — a  gar 
ment  unknown  to  legitimate  sailors  since  the  first  experiments 
were  made  in  navigation. 

"  Bill  Blummell,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  Bill.  "  But,  commodore,  I  have  got 
too  much  canvass  on ;  just  hold  on  till  I  take  in  a  reef  and 
put  myself  in  ship-shape  somewhat.  Bear  a  hand  here,  ship 
mate,"  said  he  to  the  prisoner  who  sat  next  him  in  the  dock — 
"  bear  a  hand  ;  don't  you  see,  you  lubber,  the  commodore  has 
hailed  me."  He  put  out  one  of  the  arms  of  his  blue  jacket  to 
the  '  shipmate'  and  pulled  his  own  arm  out  of  it,  he  did  the 
same  with  his-  other  arm — stripped  off  his  vest  as  quick  as  he 
would  belay  a  rope  in  a  storm — got  again  into  his  blue  jacket 
and  told  the  commodore  to  steer  ahead,  that  the  docks  were 
clear. 

"You  were  found  drunk  last  night,"  said  the  Recorder, 
"and  neither  knew  where  you  were,  or  where  you  should  be.'5 

"O,  as  for  ihe  matter  of  being  drunk,  your  honour,"  said 
Bill,  "  I  don't  see  as  how  it's  against  the  rules  of  the  navy 
for  a  sailor  to  take  his  grog  when  he  gets  it.  I  b'leve  I  had  a 
little  too  much  ballast  on  board,  that's  a  fact." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  on  board  your  ship?"  asked  the 
Recorder. 

"  Why,  bless  your  eyes,  commodore,"  said  Bill,  "  you  might 
as  well  endeavour  to  navigate  through  the  icebergs  at  the  North 
poles,  as  make  your  way  through  those  mountains  of  cotton 
bales  on  the  Levee." 

"You  are  liable  to  a  fine,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"Well,  if  your  honour  lets  me  off  this  time,"  said  Bill,  "  I'll 
clear  right  out  of  port,  and  keep  a  sharp  look  out  for  break 
ers  ahead  in  future." 

He  was  discharged 


140  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 


THE  WAY  TO  MAKE  A  TETOTALLEK 

EVAPORATION,  ITS  POWER — OR,  THE  INGENUITY  OF  TIPPLING 
RATS. 

MR.  C.,  commission  merchant  of  this  city,  is  known  as  an 
extensive  holder  of  western  produce,  and  his  stock  is  not  more 
noted  for  its  variety  than  for  the  superiority  of  the  several 
articles  which  he  keeps  on  hand.  His  per  centage  on  the 
sale  of  Monongahela  whiskey  through  the  year  would,  by  a 
man  of  moderate  notions,  be  reckoned  a  liberal  in-coming 
Customers  came  so  quick  to  purchase,  that,  to  save  the  trouble 
of  too  frequent  a  recurrence  to  the  barrel,  he  has  been  in  the 
habit  of  keeping  a  sample  bottle  in  the  store,  always  full  or 
partially  so,  for  their  trial  and  inspection.  He  had  found  for 
a  long  time  that  the  contents  of  the  sample  bottle  decreased 
very  rapidly,  daily,  and  in  a  manner,  at  first,  very  mysteriously. 
— He  soon  learned,  however,  that  "  Sampson,"  the  negro  who 
staid  in  the  store,  was  any  thing  but  a  Washingtonian,  and 
that  he  tried  the  strength  of  the  Monongahela  oftener  than  the 
whole  of  his  customers.  Desirous  to  know  if  his  conscien 
tiousness  were  as  large  as  his  alimentiveness,  he  said  to  him 
on  Monday  se'n-night,  "  Sampson,  how  is  it  that  the  whiskey 
in  the  sample  bottle  diminishes  so  fast  ?  Why  it  has  to  be 
filled  daily !" 

"  Clar  go',  massa,  I  doesn't  know,"  said  Sampson,  look 
ing  as  serious  as  a  converted  sinner  at  a  camp-meeting,  "  but 
I  tinks,  massa,  it  is  carried  off  by  the  princerples  ob  wot  white 
folks  calls  'waporation." 

"  O,  you  do,  Sampson  ?"  said  Mr.  C. 

"  I  does,  sartin,  massa,"  said  Sampson,  "  'cause  I  tells  you 
dat  ere  'waporation's  right  strong ;  gosh,  it  aint  left  a  drop  o' 
hard  cider  in  de  country.  I  tinks  it's  dat  wot  makes  de  whiskey 
so  scarce,  and  not  de  temp'rance  movement,  as  dey  calls  it." 

"  Well,  then,  Sampson,"  said  Mr.  C.,  "  fill  the  bottle  now, 
and  I  will  cork  it  so  tight  as  to  prevent  evaporation." 

"  'Es,  sa,"  said  Sampson. 

He  filled  the  bottle,  his  master  corked  it,  evaporation  tight, 
and  again  it  was  placed  on  the  shelf.  Again  on  Tuesday 
morning  it  was  found  to  have  decreased  considerably  in  quan 
tity,  and  still  more  towards  noon. 


THE  WAY  TO  MAKE  A  TETOTALLER.  141 

"  Well,  Sampson,"  said  Mr.  C.,  "  I  find  the  whiskey  is  still 
rapidly  decreasing.  How  do  you  acount  for  it  now  ?" 

"  Wa-wall,  it  be  berry  hard  to 'splain,  massa,"  said  Sampson, 
u  it  be  one  ob  dose  'sterious  disappearances  wot  niggers  can't 
'count  for,  arid  wot  sometimes  puzzles  white  folks,  I  tell 
you." 

"  But  what  is  your  opinion?"  said  Mr.  C. 

"  Wal-al,  I  links,"  said  Sampson,  "  to  tell  goramighty's  truf, 
dat  de  rats  be  drinkin'  it,  for  dey  hasn't  joined  de  temp'rance 
'siety,  as  I  knows  on." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  C.,  "  but  when  it  would  get  down  as  low 
as  the  centre  of  the  bottle,  how  would  the  rats  manage  to  get 
at  it  then  ?" 

"  Yah !  yah !  yah  !"  said  Sampson,  but,  suppressing  sud 
denly  his  cachinnations,  he  added,  u  look  heah,  massa,  I  was 
just  a  goin'  to  say  as  how  you  was  green.  Now,  does  you 
tink  as  how  dem  ere  rats  wot  you  sees  'bout  de  store,  and 
wot's  so  much  in  de  cabaret  at  de  corner — does  you  tink,  1 
axes,  dat  seein'  so  many  takin'  juleps  on  de  suction  princerple, 
dat  dey  doesn't  know  the  use  ob  a  straw  ?  Wai,  1  reckons 
dey  does,  massa." 

"  Well,  then,  Sampson,"  said  Mr.  C.,  "  if  the  sample  bottle 
can  neither  be  preserved  from  the  rats  or  evaporation,  I  must 
only  submit  to  the  loss,  and  fill  it  whenever  it  is  empty.  Fill 
it  now  and  leave  it  again  on  the  shelf,  and  I  care  not  whether 
you  cork  it  not." 

Mr.  C.  told  an  acquaintance  of  his,  an  apothecary,  of  Samp 
son's  partiality  for  the  sample  bottle,  and  asked  him  if  he  could 
noNgive  him  some  decoction  to  mix  with  it,  which,  while  it 
would  not  visibly  alter  its  colour  or  taste,  would  prove  less 
agreeable  to  Sampson's  system  than  the  pure  Monongahela. 
The  apothecary  told  him  he  could,  and,  on  the  Tuesday  be 
fore  last,  he  furnished  the  required  preparation.  Sampson  was 
sent  out  on  an  errand  in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  and  in  his 
absence  the  obnoxious  ingredients  were  introduced  into  the 
whiskey.  To  give  Sampson  a  better  scope,  when  he  returned, 
his  master  went  out  and  staid  away  long  enough  to  give  the 
sample-tasting  Sampson  full  play  at  the  bottle.  When  he  re 
turned,  he  noticed  a  strange  and  peculiar  rolling  of  Sampson's 
eyes ;  his  lips  were  the  colour  of  stale  venison,  and  he  had  all 
the  singular  characteristics  in  his  appearance  of  "  a  sick  nigger." 
Mr.  C.  managed  to  keep  him  pretty  busy,  and  although  appear 
ing  not  to  notice  him,  closely  watched  his  movements. 


142  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

"  Wo  !"  he'd  shout,  raising  his  leg  up  against  his  stomacn, 
but  still  endeavouring  to  conceal  his  pain  from  his  master,  and 
again  he  would  exclaim,  "  ah !  e-eeh  !  wo-o!  goramighty!" 
and  he  would  brace  his  belly  round  with  his  hands  and  arms. 
At  length,  finding  himself  growing  worse — that  there  was  no 
chance  of  the  pain  abating,  he  threw  himself  on  the  floor  and 
roared  out,  "  O,  massa,  massa,  dis  child's  a  gone  nigger — oh ! 
a-ah !  o-o-oh !" 


SEEING  THE  ELEPHANT. 
JIM  GRISWELL. 

A  HARD  looking  case  was  Jim  Griswell  as  he  stood  up 
yesterday  before  the  Recorder,  to  answer  to  the  charge  of 
being  found  gloriously  corned  the  previous  night.  He  stood 
at  least  six  feet  high  in  his  pegged  boots  ;  his  face  was  of 
a  clayey  colour,  like  the  Mississippi  at  high  water  mark ;  his 
hair,  which  was  of  a  ginger  dye,  hung  down  over  his  coat 
collar  after  the  old  cavalier  fashion;  his  pantaloons  just  de 
scended  as  far  as  his  brogans  ascended,  no  farther;  and  his 
Kentucky  jean  coat  was  minus  one  of  the  skirts.  He  held 
before  him,  in  both  his  hands,  a  crownless  hat,  against  the  leaf 
of  which  he  kept  bobbing  his  knee  while  speaking. 

u  Griswell,"  said  the  Recorder,  "you  have  been  found  drunk." 

"  I  know  it  squire,"  said  Jim,  "  I  know  it — "  and  this  he 
repeated  in  the  most  contrite  accents,  and  looking  round  at  that 
part  of  his  body  over  which  the  skirt  of  his  coat  should  hang 
— he  exclaimed,  "  now  ain't  I  a  nice  lookin'  coon  ?" 

The  Recorder,  seeing  he  felt  uneasy  at  parting  company 
with  the  skirt  of  his  coat,  remarked,  "  why,  you  have  lost  the 
crown  of  your  hat  too!" 

"Yes,  I  have  ! — I  know  I  have,  squire,"  said  Jim,  "  and  I 
tell  you  what  it  is,  I  don't  feel  any  thing  the  more  comfortable 
for  it,  particularly  when  it  rains;  and  J  must  say,  squire,  you 
have  some  of  the  loudest  kind  of  showers  in  these  diggins." 

"  But  surely,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  you  did  not  imagine  that 
wearing  a  hat  without  a  crown  would  contribute  to  your  com 
fort  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,  squire,"  and  Jim,  "but  now  I  find  1  was  the 
biggest  kind  of  a  fool.  Didn^t  the  player  that  performed  in 
Squire  Boon's  barn  in  our  town  say, 

Uneasv  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  erown;' 


THE   VICTIM  Of  AMBITION.  143 

but  I  now  find  it's  a  d n  sight  better  for  a  feller  to  wear  a 

crown  in  his  hat  that  to  be  without  one." 

44  Well,"  said  the  Recorder,  u  how  came  you  to  be  drunk  in 
the  streets  at  so  late  an  hour  last  night  ?" 

"  Squire,"  said  Jim — and  his  eye  showed  a  desire  to  assume 
the  melting  mood,  u  Squire,  it's  a  delicate  pint  for  a  young 
man  like  me  to  touch  on,  but  Jim  Griswell  will  tell  the  truth 
if  he  loses  his  hat.  You  see  I  came  down  from  old  Kaintuck 
with  a  right  decent  sort  of  a  broad  horn  and  considerable 
plunder.  I  sold  them  off  at  a  smart  chance  of  a  profit,  and  as 
I  never  was  in  Orleans  before,  I  thought  I  wouldn't  go  hum 
without  letting  folks  know  I  seed  sumthin'.  So  I  went  on  a 
regular  wake  snakes  sort  of  a  spree,  and  I  went  here  and  there, 
turnin'  twistin'  and  doublin'  about,  until  I  didn't  know  where 
or  who  I  was.  But  spare  my  feelings,  squire,  and  don't  ask 
me  to  tell  any  more.  Here  I  am  in  town  without  a  rock  in 
my  pocket,  without  a  skirt  to  my  coat  or  a  crewn  to  my  hat; 
without — but,  squire,  I'll  say  no  more,  Pve  seen  the  elephant, 
and  if  you  let  me  off  now  I'll  make  a  straight  shute  for  old 
Kaintuck,  and  I'll  give  you  leave  to  bake  me  into  hoe  cakes 
if  ever  you  catch  me  here  again." 

The  Recorder  let  Jim  Griswell  off  on  his  parole,  as  he  con 
fessed  he  had  seen  the  elephant! 


THE  VICTIM  OF  AMBITION. 

THE  fourth  man  on  whom  the  Recorder,  in  his  own  polite 
yet  dignified  way,  called  yesterday  to  show  cause  why  he  had 
been  arrested,  was  Richard  Wright.  Richard  did  not  respond 
with  the  usual  u  Here,  sir,"  but  stood  up  in  the  dock.  He 
looked  like  a  monument  erected  to  misery — like  a  nag-staff 
divested  of  its  ensign,  still  standing  over  the  ruins  of  a  Tippe- 
canoe  log-cabin — like  a  man  turned  out  of  office  weeping  over 
the  danger  which  threatened  his  country,  and  inveighing 
against  the  profligacy  of  men  in  power — like  any  thing  and 
every  thing  which  told  of  hopes  blasted,  anticipations  never 
realized,  and  the  mind's  greeny  freshness  prematurely  withered 
by  the  storms  of  adversity.  Could  he  be  placed  as  a  beacon- 
light  on  the  shoal  of  misfortune,  the  most  unskilful  mariner 
would  not  fail  to  perceive  there  were  "breakers  ahead."  But 
we'll  to  his  examination. 


144  PICKINGS    FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

"Mr.  Wright,"  said  the  Recorder,  "you  were  found  drunk 
last  night  by  the  watchman.  What  are  you  ?" 

u  A  victim,  sir — a  victim  !"  said  poor  Richard,  emphatically, 
pursing  up  his  brow,  folding  up  his  arms,  and  extending  his 
legs  in  a  latitudinal  direction,  evincing  by  his  attitude  and  eye 
that  he  was  prepared  to  meet  with  fortitude  whatever  further 
broadsides  fortune  was  about  to  let  fly  at  him. 

Recorder. — u  Of  whom  have  you  been  the  victim  ?" 

Richard. — "I  have  been  the  victim  of  mankind — of  the 
world — of  my  own  ambition — that  feeling  which  beacons  us 
onward  but  to  deceive — that  lures  us  forth  but  to  disappoint; 
that  feeling  which 

'  Makes  the  madmen  who  have  made  men  mad  !'  " 

Here  Richard  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  as  if  the  thought 
of  what  he  had  been  overcome  him  for  a  moment. 

Recorder. — "What  has  all  this  to  do  with  your  being 
drunk  ?" 

Richard. — "  Short-sighted  mortal — superficial  observer  of 
human  nature — knowest  thou  not  that  there  are  secret  im 
pulses  and  unseen  machinery  operated  on  by  outward  causes 
or  external  agents,  that  set  in  motion  and  control  all  our 
actions  ?  Ambition  has  been  frae  locomotive  by  which  I  ever 
have  been  propelled  along  the  railway  of  life,  and  never  did  I 
start  my  steam  to  perform  a  journey,  that  I  had  not  a  blow-up 
before  J  got  to  the  end  of  it." 

Recorder. — "But  the  charge  against  you  is  that  you  were 
drunk." 

Richard. — "  Yes,  and  I  have  been  so  for  the  last  ten  years — 
drunk  with  disappointment  and  affliction  ;  a  species  of  inebri 
ation  for  which  the  tee-total  society  have  yet  offered  no 
antidote." 

"  That's  vot  he  always  says,"  remarked  the  watchman  who 
had  the  honour  of  arresting  Richard — "he's  ever  a  goin'  on 
with  that  'ere  gammon,  swingin'  his  arms  about  like  a  horator 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  talkin'  such  big  vords  that  I'm 
blowed  but  I  vunders  he  don't  get  the  lock-jaw!  "Vy,  yer 
honour,  he's  a  valkin'  dixonary,  that  feller  is;  but  a  reg'lar 
hard  von  on  the  liquor." 

•'  Base  scavenger  in  the  bye-ways  of  justice,  hist  thee  !"  said 
Richard,  scornfully,  to  the  watfchmari ;  and  then,  addressing 
the  Recorder,  he  continued — "  My  bark  of  hope,  your  honour, 
was  long  since  split  on  the  rock  of  ambition,  and  you  now  see 


THE  VICTIM  OF  AMBITION-  145 

before  you  but  the  wreck  of  my  original  self.  "  Sir,  when  I 
set  out  on  my  first  voyage  in  life,  my  sails  were  well  trimmed, 
the  horizon  was  bright,  the  wind  fair,  and  the  sea  such  as  a 
mariner  could  wish  ;  but,  sir,  I  made  for  the  port  of  Lrve,  and 
got  wrecked  ere  I  had  made  half  the  voyage."  Here  he  turned 
up  his  eyes,  and  in  an  apostrophizing  tone  exclaimed — "  Ever- 
adorable  Eliza!"  and  then  despondingly  added — 

"  She  was  not  made 

Thrp?  years  or  moons  the  inner  weight  to  bear 
Which  colder  hearts  endure  ! — 

But  she  sleeps  well, 
By  the  sea-shore  whereon  she  loved  to  dwell." 

Recorder. — u  I  do  not  sit  here  to  listen  to  a  memoir  of  your 
life,  nor  a  monody  to  your  Eliza." 

Richard. — "Nor  do  I  come  here  to  tell  it.  I  am  charged 
with  being  drunk  :  I  admit  the  charge,  and  claim  the  right  of 
being  h<?ard  in  justification.  Now,  sir,  I  shall  drop  metaphor 
and  proceed.  Thinking  to  bury  my  reminiscence  of  love  in 
Lethe's  stream,  I  turned  my  thoughts  to  war,  and  was  near 
getting  buried  myself  in  the  swamps  of  Florida.  I  was  ambi 
tious  to  have  my  name  inscribed  on  the  same  roll  with  the 
heroes  of  my  country ;  but  I  too  often  found  it  was  not  even 
enrolled  on  the  mess  roll.  Instead  of  a  wreath  of  laurels  on 
my  brow,  I  came  home  with  a  gash  on  it,  made  by  an  Indian's 
tomahawk ;  and  instead  of  the  acclamations  of  my  country 
men  for  my  bravery,  the  only  thing  I  got  was  the  ague.  Still 
(continued  Richard)  I  was  not  satisfied.  Ambition  still  beck 
oned  me  on,  and  she  pointed  to  politics  as  the  certain  road  to 
success.  Well,  sir,  I  entered  on  it ;  attended  ward  meetings — 
went  to  barbacues — made  stump  speeches — told  my  'friends 
and  fellow-citizens'  that  a  crisis  had  arrived  in  the  affairs  of 
the  country;  that  the  constitution  was  in  danger;  that  the 
ship  of  state  was  sinking,  and  that  unless  I  was  elected  the 
whole  country,  including  the  disputed  territory,  would  inevi 
tably  go  to  Davy  Jones'  locker  some  fine  morning.  Here, 
again,  my  evil  genius  interfered ;  for  when  the  election  came 
on,  my  short-sighted  constituents  gave  me  but  three  votes ! 
My  luck — my  luck  again.  Sir,  they  talk  of  mounting  the  lad 
der  of  fame,  and  ascending  its  topmost  round.  Sir,  the  simile 
is  an  incorrect  one :  there  is  no  ladder  to  fame,  nor  any  round 
to  the  ladder;  if  there  were  I  would  have  reached  it.  No, 
sir,  fame  is  life?  a  sha'sd  pig  with  a  greased  tail,  and  it  is  only 
67 


146  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

after  it  has  slippped  through  the  hands  of  some  thousands, 
that  some  fellow,  by  mere  chance,  holds  on  to  it!" 

Recorder. — "  If  fame  and  notoriety  be  synonymous,  you 
have  now  gained  what  you  have  been  so  long  in  pursuit  of. 
You  will  see  your  name  in  the  columns  of  the  Picayune  to 
morrow — glory  enough  for  one  day! 

w  Take  him  down,"  said  the  Recorder  to  the  officer,  and 
'the  clerk  was  ordered  to  draw  out  a  commitment  for  Richard 
Wright  for  thirty  days. 


JEALOUSY.  * 

WE  verily  believe  that  jealousy  was  one  of  the  first  and 
most  potent  of  the  evils  which  flew  on  the  world  from  Pandora's 
box.  We  speak  of  jealousy  in  a  particular  and  restricted  sense, 
and  do  not  apply  to  it  a  general  meaning.  We  do  not  mean 
that  spirit  of  animosity  begotten  between  parties  by  rivalry  in 
business,  nor  that  ill  will  which  is  engendered  towards  aspirants 
for  place  or  power  who  outstrip  their  competitors  in  the  race 
for  either.  We  allude  to  that  peace-destroying  fiend — that 
implacable  foe  to  domestic  peace — that  "green-eyed  monster," 
which  reverses  the  rightful  position  of  husband  and  wife,  mak 
ing  home,  which  should  be  a  paradise,  a  pandemonium;  furnish 
ing  the  world  with  tales  of  scandal,  at  which  modesty  blushes 
and  virtue  weeps — giving  very  often  extra  employment  to 
judges,  juries,  executioners  and  executors.  This  unappeas 
able  passion  is  indigenous  to  no  particular  country  nor  peculiar 
to  any  one  class.  The  untutored  Indian  on  the  prairie  feels 
its  force  as  strongly  as  the  educated  prince  in  his  palace.  The 
Jew,  the  Gentile,  the  Mahommedan  and  the  Christian,  are  all 
in  turn  the  victims  of  its  demoniacal  fury. 

It  has  seized  on  the  mind  of  Nancy  Nilligan,  and  the  con 
sequence  is,  that  one  of  the  police  officers  seized  on  Nancy, 
on  Nancy's  husband,  Ned  Nilligan,  and  on  the  alleged  author 
of  Nancy's  jealousy,  Nora  Neil.  They  were  all  before  the 
Recorder  yesterday,  and  if  they  were  not  very  eloquent,  they 
were  at  least  very  loud  in  accusation  and  defence.  Nancy, 
who  was  rather  poetically  pathetic,  commenced  : 

"  O,  the  thief—the  thief  of  the  world  !  to  think  of  lavin'  me 
alone  in  a  strange  counthry,  like  a  bird  in  a  wild  bog  that  had 
lost  its  mate,  or  a  hare  in  the  snow  without  a  form.  O  Ned  J 


JEALOUSY.  147 

it's  little  I  thought,  avic,  when  you  soothered  me  with  your 
sweet  talk,  that  the  hot  sun  of  your  warm  love  would  so  soon 
be  succeeded  by  the  could  frost  of  neglect.  O  wirastrew  !  but 
it  was  a  sorry  day  to  me  that  you  looked  on  Nora  Neil." 

Up  to  this  time  Mrs.  Nilligan  spoke  more  in  sorrow  than  in 
anger ;  her  language  was  that  of  subdued  reproof  rather  than 
violent  crimination ;  but  this  allusion  to  Miss  Neil  drew  from 
the  latter  lady  the  following  retort,  which  was  accompanied 
by  a  look  that,  if  analyzed,  must  have  contained  a  full  quart 
of  bitters : 

uSee  that  now,  Mrs.  Nilligan;  throth,  thin,  he'll  look  on 
me  agin,  too,  and  you  can't  help  it  either ;  so  you  may  put 
your  hands  in  your  pockets  and  plase  yourself." 

Here  the  smothered  fire  of  Mrs.  Nilligan's  wrath  blazed 
forth,  and  her  very  looks  seemed  sufficient  to  burn  to  a  cinder 
her  real  or  imaginary  rival. 

"  O,  listen  to  that,  your  honour,"  she  said  ;  "  d'ye  hear  how 
the  brazen-faced  hussy  spakes  to  me  teeth  afther  puttin'  betune 
me  and  me  lawful  husband.  O,  sure  if  she  hadn't  the  assur 
ance  of  Freney  the  robber,  she'd  hide  her  head,  and  would'nt 
he  seen  in  coort.  But  sure  I  know  very  well  Ned  wouldn't 
spake  to  the  likes  of  her  if  some  fairy  woman  or  some  one 
didn't  throw  a  spell  over  him." 

"  O,  Nancy  Nilligan,  your  tongue  is  no  scandal  to  you," 
retorted  Nora.  "  I  didn't  work  any  pishiroge  for  her  husband, 
your  honour.  I'm  a  dacynt  girl,  and  here's  me  character  that 
I  got  from  me  last  place.  To  tell  the  thruth,  I  don't  think 
he's  any  great  beauty,  though  she  thinks  that  it's  out  of  his 
big  toe  the  sun  shines." 

Ned  certainly  was  not  a  very  prepossessing  individual.  His 
face  resembled  a  roll  of  Goshen  butter,  with  a  centre  slice  out 
in  front  for  a  mouth,  and  two  pewter  balls  stuck  in  above  for 
eyes.  He  had  withal  a  good  natured  kind  of  look,  and  traces 
of  repentance  were  visible  on  his  countenance  for  any  sins  of 
omission  or  commission  of  which  he  might  have  been  guilty 
towards  Nancy. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Recorder  to  Ned,  "  what  have  you  got  to 
say  in  this  affair?" 

"  O,  faix,"  said  Ned,  rubbing  down  with  his  right  hand  a 
close  crop  of  hair,  rubbing  his  chin  with  his  left,  and  looking 
half  lovingly,  half  imploringly  at  Nancy — "O,  faix,  your 
honour,  I  b'lieve  somebody  is  to  blame;  I  had,  to  tell  the 
truth,  like  Daniel  O'Connell,  strong  notions  of  repalin'  the 


148  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

union — with  Nancy — but  now,  since  I  find  she  still  has  the 
ould  gra'  for  me,  I'm  for  goin'  back  to  her  and  mindin'  me 
business.  In  fact,  your  honour,  I'm  as  much  in  favour  of 
reannexation  as  President  Tyler  himself." 

This  declaration  of  principles  seemed  to  give  Nancy  great 
and  unspeakable  joy,  and  Nora  Neil  left  the  office  saying,  she 
wished  her  (Nancy)  "  luck  in  her  bargain." 


A  CABMAN  IN  A  DILEMMA. 

OUT-DOOR  THEATRICALS. 

AMONG  the  numerous  strange  cases  brought  under  the 
special  notice  of  the  Recorder  was  that  of  Sophronia  Fitzclar- 
ence,  who  was  arrested  in  the  streets  a  few  nights  since  at  the 
instance  of  a  cabman.  With  hair  dishevelled,  bonnet  knocked 
into  a  "  cocked  hat,"  and  dress  draggled  and  in  disorder,  she 
appeared  as  though  she  had  been  enacting  antics  under  the 
joint  influence  of  rum  and  romance. 

The  cab  driver, — who  was  a  sinister  looking  chap  with  an 
oblique  castnn  his  eye,  a  very  large  head,  and  an  enormously 
stout  neck — was  the  principal  witness  against  Sophronia,  and 
appeared  to  be  as  much  of  a  character  as  the  accused  herself. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  Recorder,  «  What  did  Sophronia  do  to 
you  ?" 

"Veil,  if  you'll  jest  hold  your  bosses  a  minute  or  two,  I'll 
give  you  all  the  items,"  retorted  the  cabman,  with  the  peculiar 
patois  of  his  particular  class. 

"  Go  on,  then,"  continued  the  Recorder. 

Yes,  sir.  Veil,  as  I  was  standing  aside  of  my  cab,  sir,  near 
the  corner  of  St.  Charles  and  Foydras  streets,  a  thinkin'  on  my 
fare  for  the  day,  this  ere  fair  one  came  a  stormin'  along  with 
a  kind  of  a  theatre  step,  and  jest  as  she  got  up  to  me  she  stopt 
suddently,  give  me  a  wild  stare  in  the  face,  clasped  her  hands 
together,  worked  her  shoulders  forward  and  back,  and  then 
kind  of  shrieked  out '  Oh  !  Clifford  !  is  that  you  ?'  '  No,  I'm 
d — d  if  it  is,'  said  I ;  but  afore  the  words  was  scarcely  out  of 
my  mouth  she  threw  both  arms  round  my  nerk,  like  I  was 
her  own  dearest  blood  relation,  then  pushed  me  off  at  arm's 
length,  looked  me  full  in  the  eye,  and  says  she,  follerin'  up 
her  first  speech,  '  Clifford !  don't  you  know  me  ?'  '  Veil,  I 


'Clifford,  don't  you  know  me?"— Page  148. 


A  CABMAN  IN  A    DILEMMA.  149 

don't,'  says  I;  'Speak  to  me,  Clifford,'  says  she;  'Go  away,' 
says  I ;  '  My  own  Clifford,'  says  she  ;  '  You  be  d — d,'  says  I; 
and  then  she  sobbed,  threw  her  hands  about  in  a  kind  of 
distraction,  and  says  she  agin,  'Clifford  !  why  vont  you  speak 
to  me."  'Cos  I  don't  know  you,'  says  I;  'There!  that's 
Clifford's  voice,  if  ever  Clifford  spoke,'  says  she;  'No  it 
war'nt,'  says  I,  '  for  my  name's  Jim  Groom,  and  I  don't 
know  Clifford  from  a  side  of  sole  leather.'  Veil,  in  that  vay 
she  vent  on,  sir,  cryin',  swingin'  her  arms  about,  spoutin' 
poetry,  and  talkin'  nonsense,  like  as  though  she  was  a  play 
actor  oomari  on  the  stage,  until  finally  I  had  to  call  a  watchman 
to  help  me  out  of  the  scrape.  She's  one  of  the  dreadfullest 
cases  of  the  highstrikes  I  ever  did  see.  Vy,  do  you  know, 
sir,  that  she  axed  me  if  her  'orrid  nupshals  could  be  per- 
wented  ?" 

"  You  did'nt  know  it,"  gravely  said  the  Recorder.  *'  But 
what  did  you  tell  her  ?" 

"  I  told  her  as  how  I  thought  if  she'd  go  home  and  take  a 
nap  it  might  perwent  'em,  although  I  did'nt  know  exactly 
what  them  same  nupshals  was  she  was  makin'  such  a  muss 
about.  Don't  you  think  that  sleep  'ud  hit  her  case?" 

"Very  likely,"  continued  the  Recorder. 

"  And  vot's  more,  do  you  think  if  she  was  to  take  the  tem 
perance  pledge  it  would  do  her  case  any  partic'lar  harm  ?" 
continued  the  cabman,  and  at  the  same  time  he  gave  the  Re 
corder  a  knowing  wink. 

"That  will  do,"  continued  his  honour,  who  saw  plainly 
enough  what  was  the  cause  of  Miss  Sophronia's  vagaries  and 
strange  flights.  She  confessed  that  she  had  been  to  the  theatres, 
and  had  imbibed  rather  more  than  was  prudent  of  stimulants. 
These,  combined  with  a  great  fondness  and  natural  turn  for 
theatrics,  had  partially  turned  her  brain  for  the  moment,  and 
induced  her  to  let  off  a  little  of  the  effervescence  in  the  im 
mediate  vicinity  of  Jim  Groom ;  but  she  promised  to  behave 
better  in  future,  if  the  Recorder  would  only  let  her  off.  On 
these  conditions  she  was  discharged,  and  leaving  the  office 


-full  of  rumination  sad, 


Laments  the  weakness  of  these  latter  times." 


150  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 


A  TOUEIST  IN  TROUBLE. 

GEORGE  JONES,  a  kind  of  nondescript  or  amphibious  animal, 
half  landsman  and  half  sailor,  was  yesterday  an  applicant  for 
justice  before  the  Recorder.  He  is  a  short,  chubby  man,  with 
dumpy  legs,  and  looks  something  like  an  image  of  Toby  Phil- 
pot  on  an  earthern  pitcher.  He  wore  a  blue  cloth  jacket  that 
extended  down  to  his  hips,  and  white  corduroy  pants  that  did 
not  extend  farther  than  to  form  an  alliance  with  his  Wellington 
boots.  He  sported  a  red  silk  neckerchief,  which  contrasted 
strangely  with  his  smoky-looking  face,  and  his  eyes  were  as 
dull  and  as  listless  as  a  London  fog.  He  was  of  the  genus 
cockney,  and  never  had  been  out  of  sight  of  St.  Paul's,  nor 
out  of  sound  of  Bow-bells  till  a  spirit  of  enterprise  not  common 
to  the  denizens  of  the  "  great  metropolis1'  induced  him  to  cross 
the  Atlantic. 

"  George  Jones  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Ps  here,  your  vuship,"  said  the  interesting  object  of  the 
foregoing  remarks. 

"  Frederick  Von  Wyk  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Dat  ish  me,"  replied  an  individual  with  a  cabbage  counte 
nance,  who  looked  as  greasy  as  an  old  candle  mould. 

"State  your  complaint,  Jones,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Veil,  your  vuship  sees,"  said  Jones,  "as  how  I'm  from 
Lunnun  :  I's  a  hingineer  by  purfession." 

"  A  what  ?"  asked  the  Recorder. 

"  A  hingineer,"  repeated  Jones  :  "  vy  bless  your  hinnocent 
heyes,  doesn't  you  know  vot  a  hingineer  be  ?  Veil,  I'm  blowed 
if  you  haint  a  green  'un !-— Vy,  I  makes  steam-hingines  and 
the  likes." 

"  Oh,  you  do — do  you  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"Yes,  I  does,"  said  Jones,  "and  I's  right  smart  at  the 
business ;  but  that  beent  all." 

"  Is  it  not  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  No,  it  haint,"  said  Jones  ;  "  I's  a  hauthor,  too — I's  writ  a 
woyage  to  Margate ;  and  though  the  newspapers  called  it  a 
wile  production,  my  missus  said  as  how  it  was  a  right  clever 
thing,  and  so  ven  I  vos  out  of  employment  she  says  to  me — 
'George,'  says  she,  'if  you  vant  to  make  a  fortin,  you  just  go 
to  America,' says  she,  'and  if  you  don't  get  no  steam-hingines 


A  TOURIST  IN  TROUBLE.  151 

to  build,  you  can  write  a  book.'  '  Mary,'  says  I,— -my  old 
ooman's  name  is  Mary,  please  your  vuship — 4  Mary,'  says  I, 
4  if  I  vos  to  go  to  America  to  build  steam-hingines,  I'd  get 
blow'd  up,  that  I  vould  ;'  and  vit  that,  your  vuship,  she  com 
menced  blowin'  me  up,  and  as  I  saw  no  difference  between 
being  blow'd  up  by  my  vife's  tongue  and  an  American  steam- 
hingine,  I  put  out  right  off." 

"  I  have  heard  quite  enough  of  the  history  of  your  life  now," 
said  the  Recorder:  "  What  is  your  complaint  against  Frederick 
Von  Wyk  ?" 

"  Veil,  I  vants  my  money  from  him.  I's  a  free-born  Hing- 
lishman,  and  vont  stand  no  gammon." 

u Under  what  circumstances  has  he  taken  your  money?" 
asked  the  Recorder. 

"  Vy,  you  see,  ven  I  landed  from  sea  I  felt  like  eating  a 
sassenger,  or  summit  nice,  and  I  goes  to  this  'ere  man's  shop, 
and  I  says — '  1  vants  a  pund  o'  sassengers,  but  they  must  be 
a  wery  shuperior  article.  You  can't  come  cats'  meat  over  me, 
'case  I's  Hinglish  myself.'  Vit  that  be  gets  offended,  and  says, 
4  Ve  haint  cockneys,  old  feller ;  ve  doesn't  go  that  rig.'  Veil, 
I  buys  'em,  and  ven  I  takes  'em  home  they  all  laughs  and  says, 
4  That  'ere's  a  reg'lar  suck !'  and  I  asked  them  vat  they  means, 
and  they  says,  4Vy  bless  your  hinnocent  heyes !  haven't  you 
heard  of  the  dog  law  ?'  Vi'  that,  your  vuship,  my  suspicions 
became  aroused — I  hexamines  the  harticle,  and  I'm  blow'd  if 
I  didn't  find  one  of  the  sassengers  vos  a  dog's  tail,  hair  and 
all !  Now,  your  vuship,  that's  vot  they'd  call  hobtaining  mo 
ney  hunder  false  pretenses  at  the  Old  Bailey — I'm  blow'd  if  they 
wouldn't!" 

Here  the  thermometer  of  Frederick  Von  Wyk's  fury  raised 
to  fully  ninety  degrees  in  the  shade.  He  threatened  to  sue 
Mr.  Jones,  the  cockney  tourist  and  civil  engineer,  for  slander, 
asserted  that  he  never  suffered  a  dog,  either  alive  or  dead,  to 
enter  his  premises,  and  protested  in  the  name  of  sausage-makers 
of  New  Orleans,  individually  and  collectively,  against  the 
cockney's  imputation  on  the  trade. 

The  Recorder  said  he  had  heard  enough  of  the  merits  of  the 
case,  to  know  that  it  was  one  over  which  he  had  no  control. 
If  the  parties  felt  ambitious  to  figure  in  court,  they  should  re 
spectively  sue  by  civil  process,  and  so  he  dismissed  the  case. 

The  cockney  expressed  his  determination  to  expose  the 
whole  transaction  in  his  book  of  travels,  and  drawing  out  his 
-diary  he  wrote  as  follows  : — 


152  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

->  "MEM. — New  Orleans  is  a  wery  wile,  wicious  place :  they 
kills  men  there  with  Bowie-knives  and  dogs  with  pisoned 
sassengers.  They  berries  the  former  holesale  in  the  swamp, 
and  retails  the  latter,  tails  and  all,  as  sassenger  meat.  It's  a 
'orrible  state  of  society !" 


THE  HEAD  vs.  THE  FEET. 

THOMAS  TOPPLETON  belongs  to  that  class  of  society  who 
beautify  the  human  head  and  operate  largely  in  bear's  grease 
— he  is  a  hair  dresser.  Henry  Hendover  claims  brotherhood 
with  the  sons  of  Crispin — his  business  is  to  adorn  the  foot; 
but  being  a  genius  in  his  way,  he  confines  himself  exclusively 
to  the  manufacture  of  ladies'  boots.  Thomas  Toppleton  enjoys 
the  felicity  of  being  a  married  man.  Mr.  Hendover  has  to  suf 
fer  all  the  miseries  incidental  to  single  blessedness.  Both  of 
them  live  within  the  romantic  limits  of  Love  street;  they  are 
near,  but  not,  it  would  seem,  good  neighbours.  We  acquired 
our  first  knowledge  of  the  parties  at  the  police  office  yesterday. 
There  they  sat,  Toppleton  to  the  right  of  the  Recorder,  with 
a  nose  as  sharp  as  his  own  razor,  and  his  hair  slick  as  grease. 
Hendover  to  the  left  of  his  honour — his  face  as  bright  as  a 
lap-stone,  and  his  black  eyes  shining  like  balls  of  patent  leather 
— and  he  himself  looking  altogether  a  strapping  fellow.  Mrs. 
Toppleton  took  her  seat  right  in  front  of  the  Recorder,  and  at 
an  angle  of  about  45  degrees  from  her  liege  lord  and  the  ladies' 
boot-maker.  Toppleton  looked  hot  curling  tongs  at  Hendover 
— Hendover  looked  pincers  at  Toppleton — Mrs.  T.  looked 
like  herself  and  unlike  either  of  them.  It  was  evident  the  two 
former  were  plaintiff'  and  defendant  in  some  important  case, 
the  particulars  of  which  the  investigation  was  to  develope. 

The  Recorder  commanded  silence,  and  five  constables  simul 
taneously  echoed  the  call,  after  which  the  Recorder  raised  in 
his  hand  a  paper  folded  in  an  oblong  form,  and  called  "Thomas 
Toppleton?"  "Henry  Hendover?"  "Mrs.  Helen  Hour: 
Toppleton  ?" 

Each  of  them  answered  to  their  names,  and  stood  up  round 
the  bench. 

Recorder. — "  Now,  Mr.  Toppleton,  state  your  complaint." 

Toppleton. — "Yes,  I'll  tell  about  it,  your  honour.  You 
see  I  aint  long  from  Lunnun  ;  the  shop  I  vorked  in  there  had 


THE   HEAD  VS.  THE   FEET.  153 

letters  patent  for  shaving  the  Queen  and  the  royal  family ;  J 
have  frequently  myself,  your  honour,  given  the  royal  curl  to 
Prince  Albert's  royal  moustache. 

Recorder. — "  What  has  the  curling  of  Prince  Albert's  mou 
stache  to  do  with  your  charge  of  assault  and  battery  against 
Mr.  ITendover  ?" 

Toppleton. — "  I'm  coming  to 'that  point,  your  honour.  You 
see  when  I  comes  here  I  takes  a  house  in  Love  street,  right 
opposite  this  here  snob's." 

Policeman. — "  Order." 

Recorder. — "  Use  no  disrespectful  language  in  court,  sir." 

Toppleton. — "  Veil,  he  aint  no  reg'lar  ladies'  man,  no  how 
If  my  vife  vas  a  wirtuous  'ooman,  she  vouldn't  speak  to  him 
— that  she  vouldn't." 

Mrs.  Toppleton. — "  Thomas,  Thomas,  my  love,  is  not  this 
pretty  language  to  be  used  to  your  lawfully  married  wife,  in  a 
public  court  ?" 

Recorder. — "But  how  did  the  accused  assault  you  ?" 

Toppleton. — "  Veil,  you  see  ven  T  opens  a  shop  in  Love 
stieet,  this  here  man,  Hendover,  begins  to  look  queerish  at  my 
vife,  and  she  begins  to  look  queerish  at  him,  and  she  calls  him 
a  wery  nice  man,  and  says,  she  vill  leave  her  measure  vith 
him  for  a  pair  of  prunella  boots.  She's  alvays  a  goin  out,  and 
ven  I  says  to  her,  c  Helen  my  dear,  vere  have  you  been  ?' 
4  Thomas,  my  dear,  I've  been  listening  to  Mr.  Hendover's  ca 
nary,  that  sings  so  nice.''  Veil,  your  honour,  I  didn't  suspect 
nothing  till  last  night,  ven  I  vent  out  to  dress  a  lady's  head 
for  the  ball,  and  ven  I  comes  back,  I  looks  in  through  the 
vinder,  and  there  J  sees  this  shoemaker  vith  his  hand  round 
my  vife's  neck,  and  he  singing, c  I  give  thee  awl,  I  can  no  more,' 
and  saying  every  thing  to  her  about  'heartand  love,'  and  all  that." 

Mrs.  Toppleton. — "  He  wasn't  doing  no  such  a  thing.  He 
came  over  to  chow  me  the  kind  of  leather  he  was  going  to 
put  into  my  boots. 

Hendover. — "His  charge  is  the  weak  invention  of  a  malignant 
mind. 

Recorder. — "  But  what  of  the  assault  and  battery  ?  Did  ht? 
strike  you  ?" 

Toppleton. — "No, but  he  entered  my  premises  without  my 
consent,  and  vould'nt  leave  ven  I  ordered  him  out." 

Recorder. — "  Well,  then,  you  must  enter  suit  against  him 
for  a  trespass.  This  case  is  dismissed." 

Mrs.  Toppleton  left  the  office  a  perfect  picture  of  "  Niobe, 
all  tears." 


154  PICKINGS    FROM    THE  "PICAYUNE." 


LIVING  MADE  EASY. 

WILLIAM  BROWN  and  Dan  Steppy  were  arrested  in  a  new 
building. 

"  This  kind  of  a  life  will  never  do,"  said  Brown. 

"  Never,"  said  Steppy ;  u  it  required  some  talent  to  carry  it 
on  as  long  as  we  have." 

u  I  have  some  talent  in  a  literary  way,"  said  Brown,  "  and 
I  was  thinking  of  writing  a  work  called  the  '  Strangers'  Guide, 
or  Boarding  House  Reference.'  You  know  there  is  not  one 
of  them  I  have  not  tried,  and  not  one  of  them  that  has  not 
trusted  me  when  they  could  not  help  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Steppy,  "  you  beat  me  in  making  out  breakfasts 
and  dinners,  but  you  can't  shine  in  making  a  raise  of  drinks 
as  well  as  1  can." 

"  I  knock  under,"  said  Brown. 

"  Do  you  know  how  I  do  it  ?"  said  Steppy. 

"  Utterly  ignorant  of  the  modus  operand?^  my  dear  fellow," 
said  Brown,  "  but  always  thought  you  had  a  peculiar  talent 
that  way." 

u  I  have,  sir;  so  I  have,  sir,"  said  Steppy. — "  Superior  edu 
cation — a  knowledge  of  physiognomy  and  of  human  natur 
does  it." 

"  Explain,"  said  Brown. 

"  Be  silent,"  said  Steppy. 

"  I'm  mum,"  said  Brown,  slapping  his  open  mouth  with  the 
palm  of  his  hand,  a  la  Captain  Copp. 

"  Well  then,  you  see,  unless  I'm  really  shook,  I  always  goes 
it  in  the  bit  houses — doggeries  aint  genteel.  When  I  sees  fel 
lows  going  up  to  the  bar,  I  says,  how  do  you  do  ?  how  are 
you  now  ?  I  knows  at  one  by  my  knowledge  of  physiognomy 
whether  the  crowd  be  whigs  or  locofocos — I  don't  believe  in 
the  bump  business.  If  they're  whigs,  1  at  once  begins  to 
speak  of '  glorious  victories' — the  triumph  of  correct  principles 
— the  annihilation  of  locofocoism,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
and  they  at  once  says,  what'll  you  take,  sir  ?  If  I  find  they 
are  locofocos,*!  damn  coon  skins,  log  cabins,  and  hard  cider; 
and  thus,  in  either  case,  walk  into  a  horn  and  something  else 
:f  it  be  snack  time." 


LIVING  MADE   EASY.  155 


"  But  there  are  three  things  that  are  a  puzzle  to  me,"  said 
Steppy,  u  which  are  these  :  who  wrote  Junius'  letters  ?  who 
is  elected  governor  of  Maine  ?  how  do  you  pull  wool  over  the 
eyes  of  the  boarding  house  keepers  ?" 

"  System,  sir,  system.  My  gentlemanly  address  and  pre 
possessing  appearance.  I  find  a  pair  of  spectacles  indispens 
able  in  carrying  out  my  plans,  and  a  good  cane  has,  in  many 
instances,  a  prodigious  effect." 

"  Let  us  have  light,"  said  Steppy. 

"  I  will,"  said  Brown,  "  but  you  are  the  first  person  to 
whom  I  ever  revealed  the  secret. — Well  then,  like  making  the 
egg  stand  on  end,  the  process  is  simple  when  it  is  made  known. 
Every  boarding  house  has  a  label  with  a  black  ground  and 
golden  letters  on  the  door,  saying  that  it  is  a  boarding  house. 
You  have  nothing  therefore  to  do  but  hover  near  the  door  at 
breakfast  or  dinner  hour,  salute  one  of  the  boarders  as  he  pas 
ses  in  and  continue  the  conversation  till  dinner  is  announced; 
sit  next  him  at  dinner  if  possible,  to  keep  up  the  delusion; 
but  this  is  not  indispensable  :  walk  out  when  he  walks  out, 
and  it  will  be  at  once  concluded  that  you're  his  particular 
friend,  and  no  questions  will  be  ever  asked.  I've  tried  it  a 
thousand  times  and  it  never  failed  in  a  solitary  instance." 

"  Why  donH  you  follow  it  up  ?"  said  Steppy. 

"Because  I  have  no  new  customers  to  do,"  said  Brown. 
"  But  I  have  an  idea — a  thought  has  struck  me." 

"What  is  it  ?"  said  Steppy. 

"Why,  that  we  exchange  situations;  let  you  take  the  run 
of  the  boarding  houses,  and  I'll  take  your  place  in  the  hotel 
business." 

"  Capital  !  capital ! — excellent !  excellent !"  said  Steppy. 

"If  you  have  got  capital,"  said  the  watchman,  just  as  they 
had  made  arrangements  for  a  new  start  in  business — u  if  you 
have  got  capital,  this  is  rather  a  suspicious  place  to  be  in." 
Without  listening  to  a  word  from  them  he  calaboosed  them. 
The  Recorder  would  listen  to  no  explanation,  but  sent  them  to 
the  calaboose  for  thirty  days  each. 


156  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  ;;  PICAYUNE." 


ADJUSTING  BALLAST. 

CONSIDERING  that  we  are  now  ii\the  centre  of  the  dull  sea 
son,  there  was  a  liberal  patronage  in  the  way  of  business 
extended  to  Recorder  Baldwin,  yesterday. 

The  victims  having  been  all  dove-tailed  into  the  dock,  the 
Recorder  having  seated  himself  on  the  bench,  one  policeman 
having  called  "order !"  two  or  three  others  having  instinctively 
echoed  "  order,'1  and  the  motley  audience  outside  the  bar 
having  "shut  up,"  and  prepared  themselves  to  pay  due  atten 
tion  to  the  proceedings  of  the  court,  the  Recorder  called 
"John  French,"  and  immediately  a  short  man,  with  a  short 
neck  and  a  short  nose,  answered  shortly  "Aye,  aye,  sir." 
French  is  a  regular  old  ironsides  of  a  fellow,  with  shoulders 
as  broad  as  the  keel  of  a  Dutch  built  vessel;  there  was  a  patch 
over  each  of  his  sky-lights,  as  if  he  had  been  newly  caulked, 
though  his  proboscis  was  any  thing  but  ship-shape.  The  night 
was  not  sufficiently  long  to  dissipate  the  effects  of  his  dissipa 
tion,  and  when  he  rose  to  reply  to  the  Recorder,  he  lurched 
on  every  side  like  a  water-logged  ship. 

"  French,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  you  were  found  drunk  last 
night." 

French,  through  the  agency  of  his  tongue,  caused  his  quid 
to  revolve  in  his  jaw — or  in  other  words,  like  many  of  our 
present  politicians,  he  made  it  change  sides ;  he  then  gave  a 
sudden  jerk  to  his  canvass  trousers,  smoothed  down  with  his 
dexter  hand  some  stray  hairs  that  grew  on  the  deck  of  his 
head,  and  replied  to  the  interrogatory  of  the  judge  : — 

"  Well,  I  b'lieves  your  honour,  as  how  I  was  on  a  bit  of  a 
cruise." 

Recorder. — "  What  do  you  follow  for  a  living  ?" 

French. — "  I  follows  the  sea,  your  honour,  and  have  done  so, 
man  and  boy,  for  the  last  forty  years ;  yes,  your  honour,  Jack 
French  has  weathered  many  a  gale — he  has  often  been  cast 
away  on  the  leeshore  of  poverty,  though  he  never  saw  a  mess 
mate  yet  raise  the  flag  of  distress,  that  he  did  not  bear  up  to 
his  aid  and  assist  him,  while  a  shot  remained  in  the  locker." 

Recorder. — "There  were  two  bottles  of  whiskey  found  on 
your  person — one  in  each  pocket  of  your  jacket." 


JIMMY  M'  GO  WAN.  157 

French. — "  Why  yes,  commodore,  you  see  as  how  I  was 
bent  on  a  voyage,  and  I  took  on  board  a  regular  supply  of  sea 
store ;  them  there  two  bottles  of  Monongahela  I  stowed  away 
in  each  of  my  pockets,  by  way  of  ballast,  but  may  I  be  food 
for  sharks  if  I  could  get  along.  I  kept  continually  keeling 
over  to  the  right;  avast  there,  said  I  to  myself,  I  don't  set  fair 
in  the  water,  and  with  that,  your  honour,  I  took  the  bottle  out 
that  was  to  my  starboard  side,  took  a  jolly  good  swig  out  of  it, 
and  put  it  back  again.  Now  thinks  I,  I  guess  I'll  go  right 
before  the  wind — no  danger  in  putting  out  studding  sails,  but 
then,  your  honour,  I  found  I  lurched  to  the  larboard  side ;  I 
took  out  the  bottle  that  was  stowed  away  there  and  I  lightened 
that,  by  anticipating  my  regular  grog  time,  and  taking  a  hearty 
swig.  Now,  again  I  found  myself  inclining  to  the  right,  and 
I  again  took  out  the  bottle.  After  having  spun  this  yarn  for 
your  honour,  you  will  see  that  I  was  doing  no  more  than 
adjusting  my  ballast,  when  that  piratical  looking  craft  there 
(pointing  to  the  watchman)  hauled  me  into  port  for  the  night. 
I  only  wish  I  was  skipper  over  the  lubber  for  one  month,  and  if 
I  wouldn't  stop  his  grog  may  I  never  double  Cape  Horn  again." 

Jack  having  thus  stated  his  case  at  length,  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  large  piece  of  pigtail  and  replenished  his  quid.  He 
hoped  his  honour  would  allow  him  to  raise  his  anchor  and 
put  to  sea  this  time,  and  he  assured  him  that  he  would  not  be 
again  caught  water-logged  in  this  port. 

The  Recorder  assented,  first  giving  him  some  wholesome 
advice  that  may  serve  him  on  future  voyages.  Jack  paid  dock 
fees,  as  he  called  the  jail  dues,  and  with  a  "  heave  ahead  my 
hearty  !"  he  left  the  office. 


JIMMY  M'GOWAfl, 

WHO  AIDED  NATIONS  IN  ESTABLISHING  THEIR  INDEPENDENCE, 
BUT  COULD  NOT  SECURE  HIS  OWN. 

A  MOST  imaginative  class  of  beings  are  your  police  court 
reporters  :  their  pens  do  turn  to  shapes — 

The  form  of  things  unknown — 

"  And  give  to  airy  nothing, 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

But  how  often  in  seeking  after  the  fanciful,  do  they  pass  over 
the  real  ?     How  often,  to  indulge  in  the  poetry  of  romance, 


158  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

do  they  forget  the  prose  of  reality  that  appears  before  them. 
Let  a  daguerreotype  picture  of  the  Recorder's  court  be  any  day 
given,  thus:  Frst,  high  above  all  others,  sits  the  presidium 
judge — all  decorum  and  dignity, 

"  Like  a  comet  wondered  at." 

Beneath  and  before  him  sits  his  clerk,  mutely  intent  and  busily 
employed  in  registering  the  edicts  of  the  court:  next  are  the 
police  officers,  all  silence  and  submission  themselves,  and 
exacting  from  others  a  like  deference ;  then  there  are  the  pris 
oners  in  the  dock,  to  whom  we  shall  again  advert,  and  lastly, 
there  is  the  indiscriminate  audience  in  the  back  ground,  laughing 
at  they  know  not  what,  and  deferential  they  know  not  why. 
The  lawyers,  reporters  and  others  whose  appearance  is  but 
occasional,  we  omit,  not  wishing  to  crowd  them  into  the  pic 
ture.  Now,  after  having  taken  a  farther  glance  at  the  Recorder, 
police  officers  and  audience,  let  us  dwell  for  a  moment  on  the 
tenants  of  the  dock.  Among  them  may  be  traced  improvi 
dence,  poverty,  idleness  and  dissipation.  There  is  the  father 
less  boy,  having  neither  moral  mentor  nor  parental  protector, 
arrested  for  some  petty  theft  on  the  Levee :  there  is  the  thought 
less  young  man,  who,  heedless  of  friendly  admonition,  plunges 
into  the  vortex  of  profligacy  and  dissipation  :  there  is  the  man 
to  whom  a  loving  wife  and  fond  children  look  for  succour 
and  support,  and  who,  forgetful  of  their  claims,  has  mixed  in 
the  orgies  of  the  tavern,  and  been  arrested  for  being  engaged 
in  a  bacchanalian  row :  and,  lastly,  there  are  those  between 
whom  and  the  world  all  friendship,  all  fellowship  have  ceased, 
and  who  move  along,  seeking  no  sympathy,  alike  regardless 
of  the  envy  or  approbation  of  mankind. — Whilst  in  the  lives 
of  such  men  there  is  much  to  condemn,  there  may  also  be 
much  to  pity ;  and  were  we  to  scan  over  their  lives,  we  would 
indeed  find  that 

"  Truth  is  strange — stranger  than  fiction." 

Let  us,  by  way  of  illustration,  take  the  case  of  Jim  M'Gowan, 
who,  for  the  hundredth  and  odd  time,  appeared  before  his 
honour  a  few  days  since.  What  a  chequered  life  has  been 
his  !— how  in  it  has  fortune  and  adversity,  hope  and  despond 
ency,  alternated !  But  to  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  what  it 
has  been,  let  us  briefly  sketch  it  over. 

Jim — Jim  M'Gowan,  was  born  in  the  north  of  Ireland  His 
parents  were  in  the  linen  trade  and  weaving  line — a  business 
in  which  was  then  centred  all  the  wealth  and  capital  of  th« 


JIMMY  M'GOWAN.  159 

northern  country.  Jim,  in  the  spirit  of  true  Irish  independ 
ence,  disdaining  every  thing  pertaining  to  the  shuttle  and  the 
hank  of  yarn,  came  out  to  the  United  States  of  America.  Re 
port  says  that  love  and  a  lady  had  something  to  do  with  his 
migration  ;  and  that,  as  Burns  says — 

"  A  jillet  brak  his  heart  at  last, 

111  may  she  be  ; 

So  he  took  a  birth  atbre  the  mast 
And  over  the  sea." 

The  states,  it  appears,  he  did  not  find  altogether  to  his 
notion,  and  so,  unlike  the  Scotchman,  he  went  u  bock  again." 
He  next  joined  Gen.  Devereaux's  expedition  to  overthrow  the 
power  of  old  Spain  in  Colombia,  South  America.  In  this 
capacity,  as  a  soldier  of  liberty,  he  passed  through  many 
u  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field."  He  was  equally  suc 
cessful  in  making  love  to  the  dark-eyed  daughters  of  Colombia, 
and  in  defeating  those  who  held  their  country  in  colonial  vas 
salage.  The  war  of  Independence  being  over  in  Colombia — 
the  Spanish  power  having  been  prostrated — Jimmy,  though 
having  gilded  his  humble  name  with  many  a  daring  deed, 
began  to  cast  about  for  other  theatres  on  which  to  play  the 
hero's  part.  Mexico  was  yet  struggling  for  independence,  and 
to  Mexico  Jimmy  went.  There  he  fought  till  matters  were 
finally  adjusted ;  and  their  having  been  favourably  adjusted, 
as  it  was  believed,  for  freedom,  Jimmy  again  found  himself 
with  nothing  to  do.  His  was  not  a  peace  mission ;  so  he 
could  not  remain  idle — he  went  to  Buenos  Ayres,  and  there, 
too,  he  fought  on  the  side  of  liberty.  His  last  and  final  strug 
gle  was  at  the  far-famed  battle  of  San  Jacinto,  in  Texas,  where 
he  taught  the  Mexicans  that,  when  he  aided  in  achieving  their 
liberty,  he  meant  not  to  confer  on  them  the  power  to  enslave 
others. 

Jimmy's  broils  and  battles  are  now  over,  and  with  all  he 
has  fought  and  all  he  has  bled,  he  cannot  now  call  one  spot 
of  all  the  world  his  own !  He  is  almost  perpetually  an 
inmate  of  the  workhouse,  and  his  frequent  theme  of  regret  is 
that,  after  having  aided  in  achieving  the  liberty  of  four  repub 
lics,  liberty  is  not  now  vouchsafed  to  himself.  Alas,  poor 
Jimmy  M'Gowan ! 


160  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 


WHISKERS. 

OR,  A    CLEAN    SHAVE. 

WE  have  long  been  thinking  of  writing  an  essay  on  whis 
kers — of  reviewing  their  shape,  kind  and  colour — of  dwelling 
on  their  utility,  as  ornamental  appendages  to  the  "human  face 
divine,"  and  discussing  wherein  and  how  far  they  add  to  the 
masculineness  of  manhood.  We  think  there  is  a  natural  science, 
though  yet  undeveloped,  in  whiskers — a  something  that  we 
might  call  ivhiskerology — which  if  properly  and  practically 
understood,  would  as  unerringly  indicate  character,  as  eiiher 
physiognomy  or  phrenology.  Our  own  imperfectly  digested 
reflections  on  the  matter  have  led  us  to  these  conclusions : — 
With  large  and  naturally  glossy  black  whiskers,  we  always 
associate  honesty  of  mind  and  firmness  of  purpose  ;  with  a 
moderately  sized  cresent-formed  whisker,  good  nature  and  a 
tolerable  share  of  self-esteem ;  with  a  whisker  forming  two 
sides  of  an  angle,  caution  and  cunning ;  with  a  short,  ill- 
shaped  whisker,  an  inordinate  love  of  riches  and  penuriousness. 
A  moustache,  except  when  worn  by  military  men,  we  look 
upon  as  an  unerring  indication  of  a  lack  of  brains ;  and  a  tuft 
of  beard  below  the  under  lip,  as  ditto  in  a  less  evident  degree. 
Thus  it  may  be  seen  that  in  whiskers,  as  well  as  in  bumps  of 
the  head  and  lines  of  the  face,  there  is  an  unwritten  philoso 
phy  ;  and  what  we  have  stated  goes  farther  to  show  the  truth 
of  the  inspired  maxim,  that  there  is  nothing,  not  even  whiskers, 
made  in  vain.  But  we  meant  to  speak  of  a  pair  of  whiskers 
in  particular,  not  of  whiskers  in  general,  and  we  shall  now 
carry  out  our  intention,  placing  in.  abeyance,  at  least  for  the 
present,  our  speculative  opinions  on  the  philosophy  of  whis 
kers  and  their  relative  connexion  with  the  physiology  of  char 
acter. 

The  whiskers  of  which  we  shall  now  speak,  were  worn  by 
one  Joseph  Rogers.  They  were  long,  black  and  bushy,  and 
were  regarded  by  Joseph  as  precious  pearls — yea,  pearls  be 
yond  all  price.  As  a  further  ornament  to  his  person,  Joe  wore 
a  full  and  abundant  crop  of  hair,  which  curled  down  over  his 
face  and  shoulders,  like  bunches  of  vermicelli  in  a  grocer's 
window.  His  profession  was  and  is  a  sailor,  and  in  such 


WHISKERS.  181 

capacity  he  shipped  as  cook  on  board  the  good  ship  William 
Tell,  whereof  Captain  Gardner  is  master,  then  (in  May  last) 
lying  in  the  port  of  Marseilles,  and  bound  for  this  port,  at 
which  she  has  since  arrived.  Joseph  had  not  been  long  on 
board  when  Captain  Gardner  discovered  that  the  curls  of  his 
hair,  nor  the  length  nor  the  size  of  his  whiskers,  added  to  his 
natural  or  his  acquired  capacity,  or  his  cleanliness  as  a  cook. 
He  found  that  Joseph  devoted  more  time  to  his  facial  orna 
ments  than  he  did  to  the  making  of  lobscouse,  and  that  the 
pork  and  beans  were  often  allowed  to  spoil,  in  consequence 
of  extra  and  unnecessary  time  being  devoted  to  the  exercise 
of  the  curling  tongs. 

The  captain  remonstrated  ; — he  told  the  cook  that  he  did  not 
approve  of  having  his  galley  turned  into  afriseur^s  shop;  be 
sides,  he  said  he  liked  his  rations  well  cooked,  and  he  should 
have  it  so :  he  therefore  ordered  that  Joe  clip  off  his  curls  and 
shave  off  his  beard,  whiskers  and  all.  Joe  rejoined  that  the 
thing  was  impossible :  he  admitted  that  good  cooking  was 
very  well  in  its  way,  but  it  sunk  into  insignificance  when 
compared  with  the  fulness  and  style  of  his  hair  and  whiskers  ; 
besides,  he  said  he  had  no  razor — no  scissors.  The  captain 
offered  him  the  use  of  both.  Joe  still  said  "No."  He  gave 
his  flame  in  Marseilles  a  lock  of  his  hair,  but  from  all  others 
he  held  it  as  sacred  as  Mahomet  held  his  beard.  The  captain, 
finding  remonstrance  of  no  use,  and  that  the  cookery  was 
every  day  going  to  pot,  had  Joseph  seized  by  the  mate,  and 
held  per  force  by  some  of  the  men,  while  he  clipped  off  his 
elfin  locks  and  shaved  his  whiskers,  leaving  not  a  vestage  of 
them  behind ! 

When  the  ship  came  into  port,  Joseph  straightway  proceeded 
to  a  legal  adviser,  whom  he  found  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Wolfe, 
who  instantly,  on  behalf  of  his  client,  commenced  suit  against 
the  captain,  laying  the  damages  for  hair  and  whiskers  at  $150. 
The  case  came  up  before  Judge  Preval,  who  gave  judgment  in 
favour  of  the  plaintiff  for  $100. 

From  this  judgment  an  appeal  was  taken  before  Judge  Col- 
lens,  of  the  City  Court,  and  here  it  was  that  those  fine  subtle 
ties  of  the  law,  the  sophistries  of  the  special  pleader,  and  a 
high  order  of  forensic  eloquence  were  indulged  in.  Mr.  Wolfe 
found  an  able  professional  opponent  in  the  person  of  Jacob 
Barker,  who  appeared  for  Captain  Gardner. 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  said   the  plaintiff's  counsel,  "  is 
there  any  thing  in  the  history  of  our  mercantile  marine  that 
68 


162  PICKINGS  FROM    THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

equals  in  indignity  the  case  now  before  this  court  ?  We  have 
heard  tell  of  pirates  making  men  walk  the  plank,  but  that, 
your  honour,  is  a  mode  of  punishment,  the  pain  inflicted  by 
which  has  at  least  the  merit  of  being  brief;  but  crop  a  man's 
hair  against  his  will,  cut  off  his  whiskers,  and  you  place  on 
him  a  mark  of  disgrace  which  is  never  washed  away — never 
effaced,  if  I  may  use  a  pun  when  speaking  on  so  important  a 
subject.  To  be  sure,  I  may  be  told  that  men  shave  and  are 
shaved  every  day  :  I  grant  it,  your  honour ;  but  then,  again, 
there  are  men  whom  no  earthly  consideration  could  induce  to 
submit  to  the  operation.  Thinkest  thou,  sir,  or  does  the  gen 
tleman  on  the  other  side  think,  that  a  Mussulman  would  permit 
his  whiskers  to  be  shorn  ?  No !  rather  would  he  incur  the 
curse  of  Mahomet  himself!  If  Captain  Gardner  and  his  crew, 
like  the  Philistines  of  old,  when  they  shore  Samsom  of  his 
locks  and  his  strength  at  the  same  time — if,  1  say,  like  them, 
they  took  advantage  of  him  in  his  sleep,  the  case  might  pre 
sent  some  palliation  5  but  to  seize  on  him  in  his  waking  hours, 
and  pinion  him  while  they  divested  him  of  his  beard,  in  which 
he  so  much  prided  himself — oh !  it  was  wicked,  cruel  and  un 
requitable  !  Sir,  what  does  the  great  bard  of  nature  say  on 
the  subject  ?  He  says,  your  honour,  and  I  endorse  his  language,' 
that 

'  He  that  hath  a  beard  is  more  than  a  youth,  and  he  that  hath  none  is 
less  than  a  man.' 

"  Sir,  I  will  not  dwell  on  the  amount  of  damages  we 
claim  ;  they  are  as  a  drop  of  water  in  the  ocean — as  a  grain 
of  sand  upon  the  sea  shore,  compared  with  the  personal  loss 
and  injury  we  have  sustained.  J  would,  however,  in  fixing 
the  damages,  hav^  your  honour  bear  in  mind  the  value  at 
tached  even  to  false  hair,  that  you  may  the  better  come  at  the 
value  of  the  natural  article.  Why,  sir,  I  have  been  informed 
by  one  of  the  first  peruke  makers  in  the  city,  that  the  value 
of  a  good  spring  wig  is  sometimes  as  high  as  $50,  and  that, 
with  whiskers  and  moustache,  or  imperial  to  match,  they  fre 
quently  sell  for  $80.  With  these  remarks  I  shall  submit  my 
case  to  the  court." 

Mr.  Barker — who  had  been,  while  this  speech  was  making, 
looking  now  at  the  speaking  counsel,  now  at  the  court,  now 
at  some  oner  and  now  at  no  one,  and  laughing  a  silent  laugh 
with  his  mouth  all  the  time — now  rose.  We  should  here  re 
mark,  that  Mr.  Barker's  laugh  is  a  peculiar  one — he  absolutely 


SOAP    SUDS.  163 

laughs  through  his  specs  :  it  is  an  extraordinary  mode  of  laugh 
ing,  and  yet  it  is  his. 

The  learned  gentleman,  still  indulging  in  his  peculiar  laugh, 
said  that  the  whole  affair  was  a  bagatelle— &  mere  trifle — a 
trifle  light  as  hair  !  He  said  he  could  not  see  it  possible  how 
any  man  could  claim  damages  for  a  clean  shave.  Shaving 
was  a  business  in  which  he  had  much  experience;  he  shaved 
closely — indeed,  he  might  say  he  shaved  every  day.  People 
sometimes  complained,  it  was  true ;  but  still,  of  their  own 
free  will  and  consent,  they  submitted  to  the  operation,  and 
never  thought  of  bringing  an  action  for  damages.  Besides 
being  a  shaver,  he  had  some  experience  as  a  shavee  :  indeed, 
while  he  shaved  hundreds  himself  daily,  John  Parsons,  the 
barber,  shaved  him  ;  and,  instead  of  finding  fault  with  him,  he 
paid  him  monthly  for  the  job.  He  did  not  conceive  that  the 
case  called  for  any  argument,  and  would,  without  further  re 
mark,  submit  it. 

The  judge,  after  having  received  the  testimony  and  argu 
ment,  and  the  law  which  in  his  opinion  covered  the  case,  ad 
judged  and  decreed,  that  the  judgment  of  the  court  below  be 
set  aside  and  annulled,  and  that  Captain  Gardner  pay  to  Joseph 
Rogers,  for  the  assault  on  his  person,  $25. 

We  would  not  be  understood  to  insinuate  that  Judge  Col- 
lens  had  any  personal  bias  in  this  case,  or  that  he  is  ignorant 
of  the  bonajlde  value  of  a  pair  of  profuse  whiskers ;  but  cer 
tain  it  is,  that  he  has  none  himself! 


SOAP  SUDS. 

"  O  the  furrin  blackguard  !  I'll  swear  me  life  against  him, 
and  me  childer's  life,  and  the  life  o'  me  ould  man — the  Lord 
rest  his  sowl  in  glory ! — that's  dead  six  months  come  next 
Aysther." 

This  was  spoken  by  a  woman  of  Amazonian  proportions, 
with  carroty  hair,  and  a  nose  to  match.  The  thrill  of  her 
tongue  told  she  was  from  the  land  of  shillelaghs  and  sham 
rocks,  and  the  fire  and  fury  that  blazed  in  her  eye  gave  occular 
evidence  of  her  dander  being  up — or,  in  other  words,  told 
that  the  thermometer  of  her  passion  ranged  at  or  about  ninety- 
two  degrees  in  the  shade. 

"  Silence,  woman  !"  said  the  Recorder. 


164  PICKINGS   FROM  THL  u  PICAYUNE." 

"How  can  I  be  silent,  yer  honour?"  said  the  indignant 
representative  of  Erin's  pride — "  how  can  I  be  silent  whin 
that  bluebeard  of  a  Robinson  Cruis  [Crusoe]  wants  to  chate 
me  out  o'  me  hard  airnings  afore  me  two  lookin'  eyes !" 

u  My  heyes !"  said  a  constable,  u  if  she  haint  a  reg'lar  wixen 
of  a  voman !" 

In  speaking  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  the  lady  with  the  deeply 
tinged  auburn  hair,  held  out  her  bared  arm,  and  pointed  the 
index  finger  of  her  dexter  hand  at  a  bilious-looking  man,  who 
was  rather  profuse  in  the  display  of  whiskers  and  moustache, 
and  who  kept  working  his  shoulders  up  and  down,  like  a 
patent  sawing  machine,  while  the  aforesaid  volley  of  Irish 
eloquence  was  poured  out  at  him. 
"  What  is  your  name  ?"  said  the  Recorder, addressing  the  lady. 

"  Me  father's  name  was  Flaherty,"  she  replied ;  "  but  me 
mother  was  of  the  Dorans,  of  Ballymackduff,  the  rale  ould 
stock." 

Recorder. — "  I  don't  care  if  your  mother  could  trace  her 
ancestry  back  to  Noah  :  I  ask  you — what  is  your  name  r" 

Complainant. — "  O,  af  coorse  I'm  called  Bridget  McMona 
han  sence  I  marrid ;  and  if  you  don't  b'lieve  I  was  lawfully 
\marrid,  I've  the  priest's  lines  at  home,  in  the  corner  o'  the  box, 
and  can  sind  for  thim." 

"  Mon  Dieu !  Mon  Dieu  !"  said  the  defendant  in  this  case, 
turning  up  his  eyes  in  astonishment  at  the  volubility  of  Mrs 
Bridget  McMonahan. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Recorder,  addressing  Bridget  in  a  stern, 
emphatic  tone — "  now  state  the  complaint  you  have  to  make 
against  this  gentleman  ;  and  if  you  don't  confine  yourself  to  it, 
I'll  confine  you  to  the  calaboose." 

Bridget.—"  Well,  yer  honour,  I  jist  want  to  swear  the  pace 
agin  him,  for  chatin'  me  out  o'  the  money  he  honestly  owes 
me, — and  there's  the  bill." 

The  following  is  the  copy  of  the  account  handed  in  by 
Bridget  in  evidence  : — 

Jacobus  De  Vitol, 

To  Bridget  McMonahan,  Dr. 

To  washing  a  dickey  four  times,  $00  50 

To       do        a  pair  of  wrist  frills  twice  [4  pieces]  00  50 

To       do        a  shirt  collar  four  times,  00  50 

$1  50 

The  Frenchman  being  called  upon  to  explain  why  lie  re- 


AN  IMPOSTURE.  165 

pudiated  the  payment  of  his  just  debts,  he  told  the  Recorder, 
in  broken  English,  it  was  one  grand  imposition,  for  in  France, 
he  said,  "  you  see,  de  collair,  de  ruffle,  de  dickey,  de  tout  en 
semble,  be  reckon  de  one  whole  shirt.  Me  will  pay  for  de 
shirt — me  no  comprehend  de  pieces." 

The  fact  was,  that  the  Frenchman  conceived  that  four  bits, 
instead  of  one  dollar  and  a  half,  was  the  legal  amount  due  and 
owing  to  Mrs.  McMonahan.  1  • 

On  the  code  of  practice  adopted  by  the  washerwoman,  how 
ever,  being  explained  to  him,  he  "  footed"  the  bill,  and  footed 
out  of  the  office  in  a  rage. 


AN  IMPOSTURE. 

"  Hypocrisy  !  in  mercy  spare  it ! 
That  holy  robe — oh,  dinna  tear  it !" 

IF  a  mental  microscope  were  constructed  by  which  we  could 
discern  men's  motives  and  scan  their  incentives  to  action, 
how  many  impostures  would  we  find  in  the  world !  what  un- 
revealed  mysteries  would  be  brought  to  light !  We  would  find 
men  bearing  the  livery  of  religion,  pointing  to  heaven,  and 
professing  to  lead  the  way,  with  hearts  black  as  their  clothing 
— men  concealing  under  the  garb  of  piety  souls  leavened  with 
sin.  We  would  find  affected  patriots  thundering  their  anathe 
mas  against  the  corruption  of  men  in  power,  whilst  their  own 
boasted  political  purity  might  be  properly  construed  as  love  of 
place.  We  would  see  the  man  who  in  public  is  most  loud  in 
his  laudations  of  morality,  in  private  the  most  active  abettor  of 
vice.  We  would  see  men  professing  a  universal  or  unbounded 
love  for  all  mankind,  inveighing  at  the  success  of  his  friend  or 
neighbour.  We  would  see,  in  a  word,  that  men  are  not,  in 
every  instance,  what  they  seem  to  be.  But  we  did  not  mean 
to  write  an  essay  on  hypocrisy  in  general — we  meant  but  to 
speak  of  humbug  in  particular;  or  rather,  to  tell  of  William 
Weithman,  a  loafer  of  the  upper  crust  soap-lock  order,  whom 
we  sa\v  up  before  the  Recorder  yesterday. 

"  William  Weithman  ?"  said  the  Recorder,  in  a  tone  which 
told  there  was  something  not  very  complimentary  in  store  for 
William. 

A  full-faced,  fuddled-looking  individual  answered,  "  Here, 
sir,"  to  his  honour's  call. 


166  PICKINGS   FROM    THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

"  Johanna  Van  Dernwall  ?"  cried  out  the  Recorder — and  a 
flaxen-haired,  blue-eyed,  plump-looking  girl  instantly  made 
her  appearance. 

"  Are  you  not  a  pretty  fellow  ?"  said  the  magistrate  to  Wil 
liam,  viewing  him  with  an  eye  of  disapprobation. 

William,  without  making  any  reply,  put  his  hand  on  the 
crown  of  his  head,  and  let  it  fall  down  over  his  coat  collar  to 
the  extremity  of  his  chesnut-coloured  locks,  as  much  as  to  say 
— "  Well,  I  rather  guess  I  am." 

"  State  your  complaint  against  this  man,"  said  the  Recorder, 
addressing  Miss  Johanna. 

"  Veil,  I  vill,"  said  the  pretty  Dutch  girl,  curtseying  to  his 
honour,  and  she  continued — "  Ven  I  vash  in  de  market  dish 
mornin',  he  comes  up  and  he  says,  '  I  vansh  a  cup  o'  coffee,' 
and  he  says, 4 1  vansh  a  tother  cup  o'  coffee,  and  I  vansh  egghs, 
and  pred,  and  a  tother  cup  o'  coffee,  and  ven  he  drankhs  all 
me  cuphs  o'  coffee,  and  hates  mine  egghs  and  mine  pred,  I 
says — 4  yoush  siksh  bit  to  pay,'  and  he  say — '  I  no  pay  ;  I  be- 
longhs  to  de  shick  soshiety :  I  sthays  upvid  every  von  vot  ish 
not  veil ;  I'm  de  charity  man  !'  sho  I  calls  dish  man,  [the  Com 
missary  of  the  market]  and  he  takesh  him  up." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Commissary,  "  J  know  him  to  be  a  loafer 
and  an  impostor.  The  men  who  belong  to  the  different  benevo 
lent  societies  are  young  gentlemen  of  standing  and  character — 
they  would  not  associate  with  such  a  fellow  as  that !  Why,  it 
was  only  a  few  minutes  before  I  arrested  him,  that  I  saw  him 
turned  out  of  the  4  Pig  and  Whistle !'  he  had  two  drinks,  and 
would  not  pay  for  them,  because  he  said  he  belonged  to  the 
.Fi/-anthropic  Association  !  I'll  be  swoun,  your  honour,  if  he 
don't  look  like  a  quack-doctor !" 

William  begged  to  be  heard  in  his  defence.  u  May  it  please 
the  court,"  he  said, "  you  see  before  you  the  victim  of  a  wicked, 
malignant  and  undeserved  persecution.  I  never  said  I  belonged 
to  any  humane  society ;  I  never  said  I  was  a  member  of  any 
charitable  association ;  but  I  did  say,  sir,  I  repeat  it  now,  that 
I  was  a  poor,  penniless  individual;  that  the  epidemic  stared 
me  in  the  face,  and  that,  were  it  for  no  other  motive  than  to 
prevent  me  being  a  burthen  on  the  benevolence  of  your  citizens, 
it  behooved  me  to  partake  of  the  means  of  sustenance  where- 
ever  I  found  it.  Sir,  I  maintain  that  this  was  acting  on  first 
principles — that  it  was  obeying  the  dictates  of  nat " 

"Silence,  sir,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  have  heard  enough  from 
you.  I  shall  commit  you  for  thirty  days.  Take  him  out," 


LAW  IN  MISSISSIPPI.  167 

• 

and  in  an  instant  an  officer,  who  had  been  all  along  waiting 
for  the  closing  word  of  condemnation,  took  him  out. 

Weithman  muttered  something  as  he  went  with  the  officer 
about 

"  Man,  vain  man,  dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority." 

The  Recorder  paid  the  Dutch  girl,  from  his  own  private  re 
sources,  her  six  bits,  and  so  the  trial  terminated. 


LAW  IN  MISSISSIPPI; 

OR,  AN  OFFENSIVE  DEFENCE. 

PERHAPS  the  jurisprudence  of  Mississippi  within  the  last 
few  years  has  given  birth  to  a  wider  range  of  pleading,  and 
brought  forth  more  pure,  native,  forensic  eloquence  than  the 
highest  tribunal  of  our  country  in  the  mean  time.  Few  per 
sons,  being  strangers  and  not  uto  the  manner  born,"  who 
should  enter  one  of  the  roughly  constructed  temples  of  justice 
in  the  interior  counties  of  the  state,  before  the  solemn  "  Oyez  f 
oyez  !  oyez  !"  of  the  crier  proclaimed  its  formal  opening,  could, 
from  a  hasty  glance  at  the  bench,  the  bar,  the  inferior  officers, 
litigants  and  loafers,  anticipate  the  legal  research,  the  great 
professional  ability  and  lofty  eloquence  which,  like  a  subter 
ranean  stream  struggling  to  be  free,  were  shortly  to  burst  forth 
to  the  light  of  day  and  the  edification  of  all  whose  good  for 
tune  it  might  be  to  obtain  a  verdict  in  their  favour. 

Who  could  suppose — not  knowing  the  parties — that  he  in 
the  threadbare  black  coat,  with  the  bran  bread  countenance, 
who  asks  the  man  in  the  brown  flannel  frock  for  a  chew  of 
tobacco — who,  we  say,  could  suppose  that  he  holds  the  fortunes, 
aye,  the  lives  of  free  and  independent  Mississippians  within 
his  grasp ;  that  he  it  is  that  wields  the  sword  of  justice  and 
poises  its  scales  in  the  air  of  law  and  equity.  And  again,  who 
could  imagine  that  that  rollicking,  good  looking  young  man. 
with  his  feet  on  the  bench,  or  rather  on  the  deal  table  before 
the  bench,  who  is  arguing  with  the  ex-bank  director  on  the 
right  of  repudiation — who  could  imagine  that  under  so  rough 
an  exterior  there  lay  hidden  so  much  law,  so  much  learning, 
so  much  pristine  talent,  so  much  pure  pathos.  But  the  report 
of  a  single  case  will  illustrate  our  several  points  better  than  if 
»*e  generalized  through  whole  pages  We  shall,  therefore. 


168  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

* 

select  a  case  from  the  records  of  the  late  term  of  the  Copiah 
county  court,  which,  we  think,  will  bear  us  but  in  our  pref 
atory  remarks.  This  case  stood  No.  9  on  the  docket,  and 
was  endorsed  "  Thomas  Taylor  vs.  William  Mackew." 

"Taylor  vs.  Mackew — Holwell  and  Harriett?"  said  the 
clerk,  reading  from  the  fixed  cases. 

"  Ready,"  said  Holwell. 

"  Ready,"  echoed  Harnett. 

The  crier  called  silence,  first  expectorating  as  much  tobacco 
juice  on  the  floor  as  would  send  Charley  Dickens  into  a  swoon ; 
the  witnesses  were  called,  the  jury  were  empannelled  and  the 
case  proceeded. 

It  was  an  action  by  which  the  plaintiff  claimed  right  to  the 
possession  of  three  negroes,  the  property  of  the  defendant. 
The  case  was  opened  by  one  of  plaintiff's  counsel,  who,  by 
the  way,  had  secured  the  professional  services  of  three  of 
the  legal  luminaries  of  Copiah  county.  His  witnesses  were 
called — their  evidence  went  point  blank  to  the  matter  at  issue, 
and  the  general  impression  was  that  the  unanimous  opinion 
of  the  jury  would  be  w  verdict  for  the  plaintiff."  When  the 
case  for  the  plaintiff' had  closed,  the  judge  told  Harnett,  for  the 
defence,  to  call  his  witnesses. 

u  We  mean  to  dispense  with  witnesses  in  this  case,  may  it 
please  the  court,"  said  Harnett,  and  this  he  uttered  with  an  air 
of  confidence  that  seemed  to  astonish  every  body. 

u  Then  do  you  mean  to  let  the  case  go  by  default  ?"  said  the 
judge. 

UD n  clear  of  it,"  said  Harnett  aside  and  in  an  under  tone 

to  his  client,  who  seemed  to  look  at  the  thing  as  "a  gone  case"—— 
and  then  turning  to  the  court  he  added,  "  We  do  not,  may  it 
please  the  court,  but  the  plaintiff's  counsel  have  so  palpably 
failed  to  establish  the  grounds  of  this  action — they  have  so 
evidently  shown  that  the  plaintiff's  right  to  my  client's  ne 
groes  is  futile  and  without  foundation,  that  I  deem  it  a  waste 
of  time  of  this  honourable  court,  and  a  libel  on  the  good 
sense  of  that  intelligent  jury,  to  offer  any  evidence  or  quote 
one  word  of  the  law  which  applies  to  the  case.  Indeed,  so 
clear  does  the  case  appear  to  me,  that  I  was  thinking  of  sub 
mitting  it  to  the  jury  without  a  single  remark ;  but  on  reflec 
tion  I  have  concluded  to  offer  a  few  observations,  that  my 
client  may  stand  before  this  community  in  his  proper  character, 
that  of  an  honest,  honourable  and  injured  man !" 

When  he  spoke  of  the  clearness  of  the  case  in  his  client's 


LAW  IN  MISSISSIPPI.  169 

| 

favour,  the  judge  looked  at  the  jury  and  the  jury  looked  at  the 
judge,  and  one  of  plaintiff's  counsel  whistled  w  whew  !"  But 
this  did  not  disconcert  Harriett,  and  into  the  defence  he  went, 
jumping  over  very  wisely,  as  he  said  he  would,  all  law 
and  evidence,  for  it  would  puzzle  a  Philadelphia  lawyer, 
much  less  a  Mississippi  lawyer,  to  find  any  of  either  in  his 
favour. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  will  suppose,  for  argument  sake— 
for  it  is  only  for  the  sake  of  argument  that  such  a  supposition 
can  be  for  a  moment  entertained — I  will  suppose,  I  say,  that 
the  plaintiff  had  made  out  his  case  ;  would  you,  when  the  debt 
is  but  a  surety  one.  deprive  my  client  of  his  negroes,  the  only 
prop  and  support  of  his  fast  declining  years  ?  Shall  it  be  said 
that  in  the  free,  independent  and  repudiating  state  of  Missis 
sippi,  the  last  remnant  of  my  client's  property  shall  be  swept 
away  to  pay  a  debt,  the  first  red  cent  of  which  he  never 
handled  ?  Shall  it  be  told  abroad,  among  the  bank  men  of 
New  Orleans,  the  brokers  of  Wall  street,  New  York,  the  Jews 
of  the  Royal  Exchange  in  London,  and  the  millionaries  of  the 
Bourse  of  Paris,  that  the  three  negroes,  and  the  three  only 
which  the  tornado  of  bad  times,  the  crash  of  banks  and  the 
surges  of  suspension  had  spared  him,  are  now  to  be  gambled 
away  by  your  verdict  ?  J  say  gambled  away,  gentlemen  ;  for 
such  a  verdict,  in  point  of  injustice,  would  sink  below  playing 
at  brag  or  poker  with  marked  cards — mind  you,  I  say  with 
marked  cards,  gentlemen." 

He  next  launched  into  the  pathetics.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he, 
"you  all  have  wives — young, amiable,  interesting,  lovely  wives. 
Gentlemen,  my  client  too  has  a  wife ;  but  alas !  she  is  neither 
young,  amiable,  interesting  or  lovely.  She  is  old,  gentlemen, 
very  oiu.  AmiaDle  she  is  not,  for  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune 
and  a  constitution  broken  down  by  disease,  have  rendered  her 
an  object  more  to  be  pitied  than  admired  ;  interesting  or  lovely 
she  cannot  be,  for  she  has  long  since  passed  that  period  pf 
life  when  beauty  lends  its  blandishments  to  the  cheek  and 
sprightliness  and  vivacity  add  their  lustre  to  personal  attrac 
tions.  Take  these  negroes  away  from  her  and  you  prostrate 
her — as  the  immortal  Shakspeare  so  elegantly  expresses  it — 

' You  do  take  the  cra» 

That  doth  sustain  ner  nouse;  you  take  her  life 
When  you  do  take  the  means  whereby  she  lives.' 

"  In  fact,  gentlemen,  I  pledge  you  my  professional  reputa- 


170  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

tion  that  you  would  be  all  liable  to  indictment  for  murder  in 
the  first  degree,  should  you  find  a  verdict  against  my  client." 

At  this  announcement  the  jury  looked  startled,  the  judge 
looked  astonished,  and  at  the  several  negative  compliments 
paid  to  his  better  half,  the  plaintiff  seemed  nowise  pleased. 
The  counsel  next  referred  to  the  head  of  his  client,  silvered 
o'er  with  age — no,  not  with  age,  for  he  was  comparatively  a 
young  man,  but  with  the  frosts  of  misfortune.  Here  the 
defendant  darted  out  of  the  court  in  an  apparent  rage.  The 
counsel  continued  his  ingenious  defence,  and  finally  wound 
up  by  an  ardent  appeal  to  the  virtue,  intelligence,  independ 
ence  and  magnanimity  of  the  jury,  to  find  for  the  defendant. 

The  opposite  counsel  replied.  They  referred  to  the  con 
clusive  nature  of  the  evidence,  to  the  clearness  of  the  law  and 
the  naked  facts  of  the  case.  The  judge  charged  in  favour  of 
the  plaintiff,  and  censured  the  erratic  and  unprofessional 
couse  of  defendant's  counsel,  but  it  was  all  of  no  avail.  The 
eloquence  of  Harnett,  the  pity-exciting  picture  which  he  drew 
of  Mackew's  wife,  (in  which  by  the  way  there  was  not  one  word 
of  truth,  for  she  happened  to  be  a  brisk,  bouncing  woman,)  but 
above  all  his  threat  about  arraigning  them  for  murder,  did  the 
business  with  the  jury,  and  without  retiring  from  their  seats 
they  brought  in  a  verdict  for  the  defendant. 

Harnett  immediately  left  the  court,  and  on  his  way  up  to  the 
tavern  met  his  client,  who  seemed  flushed  with  liquor  and 
much  excited.  u  Joy  !  my  boy,  joy  !"  said  the  delighted  coun 
sel,  "  I've  gained  the  suit." 

"  D — n  the  suit  and  d — n  you  and  d — n  the  negroes,"  said 
Mackew,  "  I  would'nt  suffer  the  abuse  you  gave  the  old  woman 
and  myself  for  the  whole  concarn.  I'll  lick  you  for  it '  any 
way  you  can  fix  it ;' "  and  here  he  brandished  a  large  stick 
over  his  zealous  lawyer's  head,  and  would  have  repaid  him 
for  his  dexterous  professional  service  with  a  sound  beating,  had 
npt  mutual  friends  interposed. 

Explanations  were  made  to  Mackew,  who  at  length  became 
convinced  ihat  the  talk  about  his  wife's  age,  ugliness,  &c.,  and 
about  his  o\vj  gray  hair,  was  "all  in  his  eye  and  Elizabeth 
Martin ;"  so  they  adjourned  to  the  tavern  and  had  a  a-ener»l 
drink. 


THE  DANGER  OF  DIDDLING  A  BARBER.  171 


THE  DANGER  OF  DIDDLING  A  BARBER. 

A  QUEER  looking  genius  is  Paul  Preshraini. — He  looks  as  if 
nature  had  formed  him  while  under  a  state  of  mesmeric  influ 
ence,  or  at  a  time  when  she  was  unconscious  of  what  she  was 
doing.  Paul  has  never  made  an  effort  to  thwart  her  design ; 
au  contraire,  as  the  Algerines  say,  he  invariably  seconds  her 
intention  by  acting  oddly — in  a  way  that  nobody  else  but 
Paul  would  act.  He  studied  the  science  of  shaving  under  a 
Parisian  tonseur ;  it  is  a  business  that  affords  a  wide  field  for 
the  exercise  of  his  eccentricities,  and  he  lets  no  available 
opportunity  pass  without  playing  one  of  his  odd  pranks. 

His  rainbow-coloured  pole  graces  the  door  of  a  shanty  in. 
Basin  street  at  the  present  writing.  This  shaving  saloon  is 
like  himself — queer,  very  queer.  Besides  the  p<"le,  the  door 
is  ornamented  with  the  heraldic  device  of  a  blooclj  arm,  which 
is  an  intimation  to  the  world  that  Paul  is  a  phlebotomist  as 
well  as  an  exterminator  of  beards.  The  interior  of  the  apart 
ment  is  graced  with  a  miniature  Bonaparte  in  large  boots  and  a 
cocked  hat,  a  mirror,  through  which  a  man  can  see  his  face 
<c  in  spots,"  and  the  walls  are  pasted  over  with  more  French 
troops  than  set  out  on  the  Russian  expedition  or  fought  at 
Waterloo.  Though  anxious  to  shave  the  world,  he  neglects 
in  a  great  measure  himself  j  and  for  one  who  deals  so  much  in 
soft  soap  he  is  candid — very  candid — in  the  expression  of  his 
opinions.  He  is  as  much  opposed  to  the  credit  system  as  Tom 
Benton  is;  and  is  in  favour  of  imposing  a  heavy  duty  on 
money  brokers,  as  a  protective  tariff  to  legitimate  shaving. 

Jean  Ruean  paid  Paul  a  visit  at  his  shaving  shop  on  Sunday 
morning,  with  a  view  of  getting  his  face  divested  of  its  super 
fluous  beard,  as  was  his  daily  custom. 

u  Bon  jour,  mon  ami"  said  Jean. 

"  Tres  bien.  Monsieur,"  said  Paul. 

Jean  sat  himself  down  in  the  shaving  chair  and  made  a  few- 
pan  tomimic  motions  with  his  hand,  which  meant "  lather  away 
old  feller." 

Paul  well  understood  him ;  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
shook  his  head,  saying,  "No,  no,  Monsieur  Ruean — no,  no; 
b}  gar  you  cannot,  not  any  at  all  come  dat  ame  upon  dis 


172  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  u  PICAYUNE." 

enfant.  I  shave  you  one  time — you  say  you  pay — I  say  vera 
good  (he  shrugs  the  shoulders.)  I  shave  you  two  time — you 
say  you  pay — I  say  vera  good  (another  shrug.)  I  shave  you 
three  time — you  say  you  pay — I  say  vera  good — (a  third 
shrug.)  Now  you  say  shave  four  time,  and  I  say  no,  G — d 
d — n.  You  pay,  I  shave — you  no  pay,  I  no  shave.  By  gar 
dat  one  M'dlle  Lucy  Long  may  take  her  time — but  Paul  Pre- 
shraini — dat  is  me — don't  give  no  time  nevare,  not  no  more — 
nevare." 

Jean,  however,  it  appears,  tipped  the  "  tin"  in  his  pocket., 
and  assured  Paul  that  as  soon  as  he  would  shave  him  he 
would  pay  off  the  account.  On  the  strength  of  this  promise 
Paul  set  to  work,  and  had  Jean's  beard  off  in  as  quick  time,  as 
it  could  be  done  by  a  shaving  machine.  Instead  of  paying 
him  in  full,  however,  Jean  handed  him  two  bits  as  a  first 
instalment,  nor  would  he  hand  him  any  more.  At  this  Paul 
became  so  much  incensed,  that  he  uttered  a  sacre  and  its 
adjuncts  on  the  head  of  Jean,  whipping  up  a  loaded  pistol  at 
the  same  time  and  firing  it  off  at  him ! 

Jean  ran  to  the  police  office,  made  affidavit  of  the  facts  and 
had  Paul  arrested ;  he  says  he  heard  the  ball  whistle  by  his 
ear  like  wind  through  the  keyhole  of  a  door. 

The  case  is  to  undergo  a  further  examination  to-morrow. 


CABBAGE. 

A  CASE  came  before  the  Recorder  yesterday  which  elicited 
considerable  law  and  logic.  It  has  its  origin  in  the  alleged 
taking,  stealing  and  carrying  away  a  single  head — a  solitary 
head  of  cabbage.  The  name  of  the  plaintiff  was  Mary  M'Gloin, 
that  of  the  defendant  was  Hans  Von  Grout. 

"  Well,  Mary  M'Gloin,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  what  about 
the  head  of  cabbage  ?" 

"  O,  the  d — — 1  a  know  I  know  what's  about  it,"  said  Mary. 
"I  wouldn't  wondher  in  the  layst  if  pickle  was  about  it  now, 
for  they  say  thim  Dutch  is  as  fond  of  sour  kroutas  theFrinch 
is  of  frogs,  or  as  the  people  of  our  beautiful,  blissed  country, 
vhe  Lord  betune  them  and  harm,  is  of  praytees." 

Recorder. — "  I  mean,  how  was  the  head  of  cabbage  stolr* 
from  you  ?'* 


CABBAGE.  173 

"Faith,  your  honour,  I  had  it  where  the  piper  had  the  jig 
— undher  me  arm,  coining  from  the  market,  when  this  fellow, 
that  looks  like  a  hot-house  vegetable,  comes  up  to  me  and  says 
he  to  me,  in  a  foreign  gibberish  that  I  could  scarcely  undher- 
stand — it's  a  pity,  your  honour,  that  he  wasn't  sint  to  Ireland 
to  finish  his  idication,  and  be  taught  to  spayk  the  King's  Eng 
lish  day  cent,  and  pronounce  his  word  like  a  Christian.  But 
as  1  was  saying,  he  comes  up  to  me  and  he  had  another  head 
of  cabbage.  'Did  you  see  him  ?'  said  he.  'Who?'  said  I. 
4 The  man  that  took  it,'  said  he.  'What?'  said  I.  'Your 
head  of  cabbage,'  said  he.  And  faith  I  looked  about,  and  sure 
enough  I  found  me  head  of  cabbage  among  the  missing,  and 
there  it  was,  lying  quiet  and  aisy  as  a  pig  in  a  pool  of  a  hot 
day,  in  the  bottom  of  his  basket." 

"  Then  you  swear  he  stole  your  head  of  cabbage,"  said  the 
Recorder. 

Mary. — "  Troth  I  do,  Recorder  jewel,  for  there  wasn't  a 
mother's  sowl  prisint  but  himself  and  meself,  bar'n  the  childer, 
and  they  was  at  home,  the  craythers,  sleeping  sound  and  aisy." 

"  Any  questions  to  ask  this  woman  ?"  said  the  Recorder  to 
the  defendant. 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  said  a  young  lawyer,  "  I  am 
counsel  for  the  defendant  in  this  case ;  I  have  some  questions 
to  ask  the  witness.  (Addressing  Mary.)  You  state,  madam, 
the  prisoner  stole  your  head  of  cabbage. — Now  what  couid 
have  been  his  motive  for  committing  so  petty  a  theft  ?" 

Mrs.  M^Gloin. — "  Faix  that's  more  than  I  know.  I  suppose 
he  thought  two  heads  would  be  betther  than  one,  any  day. 
Don't  you  thing  so  yourself?" 

Lawyer. — "  No  impertinence,  madam." 

Mrs.  M^Gloin. — "O,  jist  as  you  like,  sir,  suit  yourself,  it's 
all  the  same  to  me." 

Lawyer. — "  Now,  madam,  you  say  he  stole  your  head  of 
cabbage.  Will  you  swear  that  you  know  what  a  head  of  cab 
bage  is  ?  and  that  you  know  the  genus  of  plants  to  which  it 
belongs  ?  The  court  will  at  once  see  the  necessity  of  the 
witness'  being  explicit  on  this  point,  because  she  cannot  swear 
that  which  she  lost  is  a  cabbage  unless  she  is  acquainted  with 
its  physiology.  Now,  Linnaeus  divides  all  solid  plants  into 
two  distinct  classes  or  kinds — the  'Cellular'  and  the  'Vascular  ;' 
and  these  again  he  subdivided  into  the  '  Gryptogamous' and 
the  Monocotyledonous,'  and  the  latter  he  calls  endogenous. 
Now.  madam,  after  this  will  you  pretend  to  swear  that  you 


174  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

have  an  accurate  knowledge  of  a  head  of  cabbage,  or  that  you 
actually  know^rhat  it  is  ?" 

Mrs.  M'Gloin. — "O,  holy  St.  Bridget,  this  man  is  out  of 
his  sinses.  So,  Mn  Lawyer,  you  say,  I  don't  know  what  a 
head  of  cabbage  is  ?  And  I  suppose  you'll  be  afther  saying  I 
.can't  till  the  difference  betuneahead  of  cabbage  and  a  cabbage 
head  ?  In  troth  then  it's  altogether  aysier  than  you  think  it  is, 
for,  by  way  of  explanation,  as  Bill  Dolin  used  to  say  when 
he'd  describe  the  streets  of  Dublin  by  making  lines  with  a 
kippeen  in  the  ashes — your  head  may  be  called  a  cabbage  head, 
but  I  defy  you  with  all  your  larnin'  to  prove  that  because  it's 
a  cabbage  head  it  must  be  a  head  of  cabbage !" 

The  young  lawyer  claimed  the  protection  of  the  court  from 
such  inuendoes  and  insinuations.  "  Every  man,"  he  said,  "  at 
some  time  of  his  life  felt  a  penchant  for  cabbage,  and  the  sub 
ject  should  not  be  treated  with  such  levity.  The  journeyman 
tailor  cabbaged  his  cloth,  and  the  Ex-president  cultivated  his 
cabbage,  and " 

Here  the  Recorder  abruptly  put  a  period  to  his  speech,  by 
telling  him  he  could  not  sit  and  listen  to  a  lecture  on  the  cul 
tivation  of  vegetables.  He  ordered  the  Dutchman  to  pay  the 
costs  of  court,  and  to  pay  Mrs.  M'Gloin  for  her  head  of  cab 
bage,  and  so  he  dismissed  the  case. 


JACK  ROBINSON. 

A  SALT  WHO  WAS  FRESH. 

JACK  ROBINSON,  a  tarpaulin-faced,  tempest-tossed  mariner, 
wearing  large  canvass  trousers,  a  blue  jacket  with  white  pearl 
buttons  in  close  column  and  double  file,  and  a  small  sized 
glazed  hat,  was  one  of  the  prisoners  before  Recorder  Baldwin 
yesterday.  His  hair  was  like  a  deck  mop,  his  forehead  like  a 
companion  ladder,  his  nose  like  a  quadrant,  his  eyes  like  a 
pair  of  revolving  lights  seen  in  the  distance,  and  his  mouth 
was  like  the  large  end  of  a  speaking  trumpet.  His  left  cheek 
was  distended  out  in  a  conical  shape,  the  effect  of  an  enorm 
ous  quid  of  tobacco  that  was  stowed  away  inside. 

The  watchman  boarded  him  in  Gravier  street. — His  rudder 
was  broken  and  he  had  lost  his  compass,  or  what  was  about 
the  same  thing,  if  he  had  one  he  was  not  able  to  use  it  lTe 


JACK  ROBINSON.  175 

was  lurching  about  from  one  side  of  the  street  to  the  other, 

and  singing 

"  I'm  now,  d'ye  see,  six  days  on  shore, 

And  yet  my  spree,  it  is  not  o'er  ; 

Should  1  be  calaboosed.  wouldn't  that  be  a  bore? 

I'll  be  d d  it' it  wouldn't," 

said  Jack  Robinson. 

"  Veil,  you  is  in  for  it  this  time,  sure,  my  covey,"  says 
Charley,  laying  his  grappling  irons  on  Jack  Robinson— 
"you'll  hammock  in  the  calaboose,  to-night,  old  feller;  that's 
as  sure  as  that  you  have  eat  chowder." 

"  Avast  there,  you  piratical  looking  old  laridshark,"  says 
Robinson  "  or  I'll  douse  your  glims  while  you'd  be  saying  Jack 
Robinson."  Jack,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  made  a  blow 
at  the  guardian  of  the  night,  missed  him,  and  keeled  over.  The 
watchman,  without  holding  further  parley  with  him,  took  him 
to  the  Baronne  street  prison,  vi  et  armis. 

"  Jack  Robinson  ?"  said  the  Recorder,  in  his  usual  grave  tone. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  Robinson,  standing  up,  giving  a  jerk 
to  his  canvass  trousers,  removing  the  deposits  of  tobacco  from 
one  jaw  to  the  other,  and  giving  himself  a  shake  like  a  New 
foundland  dog  after  leaving  the  water. 

"What  do  you  follow  for  a  living?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"Well,  look  here,  commodore,"  said  Jack  Robinson,  "  if  so 
be  as  you  are  quizzing  me  when  you  ask  that  ere  question, 
hard  weather  to  me  if  I'll  answer  it.  I  thinks  as  how  it  needs 
no  telescope  to  tell  I  follows  the  sea;  why,  bless  your  eyes, 
I  haint  bew  off  it  a  whole  month  since  I  first  joined  with 
Commodore  McDonough.  The  poor  commodore  has  gone  to 
Davy  Jones'  locker  long  since,  and  as  brave  a  fellow  he  was 
as  ever  paced  a  quarter  deck."  Here  the  old  tar's  eye  became 
moist,  a  tear  stood  in  the  corner  of  it,  and  he  wiped  it  off  with 
the  cuff  of  his  jacket. 

u  What  ship  do  you  belong  to  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Schooner  Experiment,"  said  John — "  rather  a  rum  'un  to 
look  at,  but  a  precious  good  sailer." 

"  Well,  I  shall  let  you  go  this  morning,"  said  the  Recorder, 
"  but  when  you  next  come  on  shore  you  ought  to  try  some 
other  experiment  than  that  of  getting  drunk." 

"  Thank  your  honour,"  said  Jack  Robinson ;  "  I'll  make 
an  entry  of  your  advice  in  the  log-book  of  my  memory — it 
may  keep  me  off  from  breakers  in  future."  He  clapped  his 
low  crown  hat  *  his  head  %nd  put  out. 


176  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 


A  DANCING-MASTER  IN  A  DILEMMA. 

ADDITIONAL  interest  was  yesterday  added  to  the  ordinary 
or  every  day  picture  which  the  police  office  presents,  by  the 
appearance  of  three  figures  which  stood  out  in  bold  relief  in 
the  foreground.  These  were — a  man  of  very  sallow  visage, 
with  very  long  soap-locks,  and  a  very  long  waist,  legs  to 
match,  and  wearing  a  very  seedy  coat ;  a  very  hard-featured 
lady,  who  had  passed  life's  meridian,  and  whose  dress,  like 
the  veterans  of '14-J5,has  seen  some  service;  and  her  daugh 
ter,  a  girl  whose  time  of  life  was  somewhere  in  the  twenties, 
with  round,  beet-coloured  cheeks  and  a  nose  that  you  could 
hang  a  tea-kettle  on.  Their  presence  was  soon  explained, 
and  their  respective  positions  soon  defined  by  the  Recorder 
gravely  calling  out  their  names,  and  by  the  parties  answering 
the  call — 

"  Rebecca  Ringwood — Eugenia  Ringwood — Theophilus 
Twing.  What  is  your  charge,  Mrs.  Ringwood  ?"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"Four  dollars  and  fifty  cents,"  said  Mrs.  R.  "One  week's 
board,  washing  two  dickies  and  a  pair  of  white  cotton  gloves, 
and  mending  a  pair  of  black  silk-and-worsted  stockings." 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  Recorder, "  what  criminal  charge  do  you 
bring  against  him  ?" 

"  Why,  attempting  to  defraud  a  poor, lone  widow,l>f  course," 
said  Mrs.  Ringwood,  "and  endeavouring  to  win  clandestinely 
the  affections  of  this  young  and  amiable  child." 

Here  Mr.  Twing  turned  up  his  eyes,  as  if  he  were  attempting 
to  descry  a  bottle-fly  on  the  ceiling,  and  Eugenia  turned  down 
"  her'n,"  as  if  she  was  looking  for  a  pin  on  the  floor. 

u  Stale  what  steps  he  took  to  accomplish  his  purposes,"  said 
the  Recorder. 

"Steps  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ringwood,  "why  he  took  no  steps 
at  all.  If  he  did,  I'd  have  no  fault  to  find  with  him.  Didn't 
he  promise  to  teach  Eugenia  all  sorts  of  steps — the  Pol-/tfl/, 
the  CaZ-chouka  and  the  Crack-a-vein,  and  all  these  things  ;  but 
instead  of  that,  he  never  gave  her  a  lesson.  She  doesn't  know 
no  more  than  her  three  first  positions,  and  them  her  poor  dear 
father  taught  her.  Eugenia,  show  his  honour  how  gracefully 
you  understand  the  attitudes." 


A  DANCING-MASTER  IN  A  DILEMMA.  177 

"  Not  now,  Mrs.  Ringwood,"  said  the  Recorder.  "  I  sit  here 
to  decide  a  question  of  law  and  fact,  and  not  to  act  as  umpire 
m  the  Court  Terpsichorean.  Mr.  Twing  makes  a  counter 
complaint  against  you.  He  says  you  retain  a  silver-keyed  flute 
of  his,  worth  fifteen  dollars." 

"  O  gracious  me!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ringwood,  "didn't  he 
make  a  present  of  it  to  Eugenia ' — didn't  I  hear  him  with  my 
own  two  ears  singing — 

"  '  I  give  thee  all,  I  can  nomore, 

Though  poor  the  ofFring  be  ; 
My  heart  and  flute  are  all  the  store 

That  I  can  bring  to  thee  !'  " 

"  I  suppose,  Mrs.  Ringwood,"  said  the  Recorder,  u  that  it 
was  but  a  poetical  presentation." 

"  Nothing  more  in  life,  your  honour,"  said  Mr.  Twing.  "  On 
the  occasion  which  she  refers  to,  J  was  but  indulging  in  a  fa 
vourite  retrospective  scene,  which  from  association  made  that 
song  dear  to  me — a  scene  which  impressed  itself  on  my  memory 
long  before  I  saw  these  vulgar  people,  and  which  will  remain 
graven  there  long  after  every  trace  of  their  ignorance  will  be 
obliterated." 

Here  Mr.  Twing  sighed  an  audible  sigh,  placed  his  left  hand 
over  his  right  elbow,  and  placed  the  nail  on  the  thumb  of  his 
right  hand  between  his  teeth.  He  was  a  fine  study  fora  painter 
who  would  wish  to  present  Bonaparte  in  a  contemplative  mood 
the  night  before  the  battle  of  Austerlitz. 

"  Mr.  Twing,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  did  you  agree,  as  Mrs. 
Ringwood  says  you  did,  to  teach  her  daughter  to  dance  ?" 

"  There  certainly  was  such  an  agreement,  your  honour," 
replied  Mr.  Twing, "  and  I  have  performed  my  part  of  it.  I  do 
not  wish  to  be  ungallant,  for  you  know  what  Shakspeare 
says " 

u  It  matters  not  what  Shakspeare  says,"  said  the  Recorder  : 
"  what  have  you  got  to  say  touching  your  failure  to  instruct 
this  young  lady  in  dancing,  as  you  had  agreed  to  do  ?" 

"  That  success  in  the  undertaking  were  impossible,"  replied 
Mr.  Twing.  u  Why,  your  honour  sees  the  girl  before  you— - 
you  see  her  carriage  and  bearing.  By  perseverance  1  think  I 
could  teach  an  elephant  to  move  through  a  quadrille,  or  a 
buffalo  to  understand  the  gallope  ;  but  as  for  perfecting  Miss 
Eugenia  Ringwood  in  the  '  poetry  of  motion,' — lord  !  your 
honour,  the  thing  is  an  impracticable  impossiblity !  You  see, 
sir,  that  she  is  no  figure — no  cut,  but  all  shuffle!" 
69 


178  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE  " 

Here  Eugenia  began  to  weep,  and  Mrs.  Ringwood  began  to 
apply  epithets  to  Mr.  Twing — such  as  "  good-for-nothing  fel 
low,"  "  impostor,"  "  bolrayer  of  innocence,"  and  all  that — to 
suffer  which  was  deemed  by  the  Recorder  beneath  the  dignity 
df  his  court,  and  so  he  had  her  silenced.  He  ordered  Mrs. 
Ringwood  to  give  to  Mr.  Twing  his  silver-keyed  flute,  and 
advised  her  to  sue  Mr.  T.  in  a  civil  court  for  the  amount  which 
she  claimed  as  due  and  owing  her.  Mr.  Twing  chasse-ed  out 
of  the  room  as  gracefully  as  if  he  were  going  through  the 
second  figure  in  Paine's  quadrilles,  and  Mrs.  Ringwood  left, 
emphatically  affirming  that  she  would  never  more  let  such  a 
good-for-nothing  scamp  enter  her  door. 


THE  FANCY  NOT  FANCIED. 

BILL  SMITH,  a  fellow  who  looked  like  a  flash  Bowery  boy, 
was  brought  up  yesterday  before  the  Recorder  on  the  compla  nt 
of  a  little  oldish  man  who  called  himself  Alfred  Granger.  J  ill 
wore  a  small,  straight-leafed  hat ;  a  short  skirted  coat  v  ith 
brass  buttons  and  pockets  outside  ;  he  sported  a  Belcher  hand 
kerchief,  and  a  remarkably  large  brooch  in  his  shirt  bosom. 

"  What  is  the  nature  of  your  complaint  ?"  asked  the  Re 
corder  of  Mr.  Granger. 

"  Why,  I  charges  this  here  man  with  being  a  himposter," 
said  Granger.  •"  You  see  as  how  I  have  got  a  son  who  is  a 
wery  promising  young  man — a  wery  promising  young  man 
indeed  ;  he  has  great  genius,  only  it  wants  to  be  brought  out — 
to  be  developed,  as  the  phrenologists  say.  He  makes  the 
prettiest  kind  of  paper  kites,  and  paints  wings  and  all  on  'em. 
Well,  you  see,  this  here  man  introduces  himself  to  me  as  a 
professor  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  one  that  could  paint 
and  draw,  and  do  any  thing  that  nobody  could  do ;  and  he  says 
to  me,  says  he,  won't  you  have  your  son  taught  a  few  lessons, 
says  he — my  terms  will  be  moderate.  I  doesn't  mind  about 
the  terms,  says  I,  but  I  think  he  is  rather  old ;  yet  I  know  he 
has  taste  and  fancy.  He  aint  too  old,  said  he,  and  I  fancy  he's 
just  the  sort  of  a  feller  to  make  one  of  the  fancy  Well,  we 
agrees,  and  I  leaves  him  in  the  room  with  my  son,  telling  him 
to  commence  on  a  landscape  scene.  Would  your  honour  be 
lieve  that  when  I  returned  I  found  this  here  Smith  and  ir-y  son 
boxing  one  another  for  the  bare  life,  though  neither  oi  fJ?«oi 


THE  FANCY  NOT  FANCIED.  179 

seemed  in  a  passion,  and  they  both  wore  gloves  as  large  as 
bed  pillows." 

•;  What  is  this  for  ?"  I  asked. 

"  It's  only  a  set-to,"  replied  Smith. 

"  Is  this  what  you  calls  the  fine  arts  ?"  said  I. 

"  No,  I  calls  this  the  noble  art  of  self-defence,"  said  he. 

"  I  thought  you  were  master  of  the  sciences,"  said  L 

"  Don't  you  call  this  science  ?"  said  he. 

"You  told  me  you  could  draw,"  said  I. 

"  So  I  can,"  said  he,  and  he  hits  my  boy  a  blow  on  the  nose 
that  brings  the  blood  from  it. 

"  Don't  you  call  that  drawing^  old  feller,"  said  he ;  and  he 
turns  round  and  squares  up  at  me,  and  he  says — "  Where'll 
you  take  it." 

"I'll  not  take  it  nowhere,"  said  I,  running  out;  "  but  you'll 
catch  it,  that  you  will,  when  I  bring  you  up  before  the  Re 
corder  ;  and  here  he  is  now,  your  honour." 

As  the  Recorder  adopts  the  old  fashioned  custom  of  hearing 
both  sides  of  a  story,  he  thought  he  would  hear  Mr.  Smith 
before  deciding. 

Smith  declared  that  Granger  gave  a  very  erroneous  version 
of  the  transaction.  He  professed,  he  said,  the  science  of  pu 
gilism,  and  taught  it  agreeably  to  the  most  approved  rules  of 
the  ring.  He  agreed  with  the  plaintiff  to  give  his  son  lessons 
in  the  noble  art  of  self-defence,  and  these  were  the  only  pro 
fessions  he  made  about  his  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences. 
As  for  painting,  he  said  it  was  never  mentioned,  nor  did  he 
believe  that  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  if  he  were  alive,  could  make 
a  painter  of  the  young  man ;  he's  a  regular  thick  head,  your 
honour,  and  won't  even  make  a  good  boxer. 

The  Recorder,  finding  that  Mr.  Granger  "mistook  his  man" 
in  the  person  of  Mr.  Smith,  and  that  the  misunderstanding  orig 
inated  in  his  commendable  zeal  to  foster  and  improve  the  genius 
of  his  son,  he  discharged  the  case,  cautioning  Smith  at  the 
same  time  against  giving  any  more  lessons  to  young  Grangei 
in  opposition  to  the  wishes  of  his  anxious  parent. 


180  PICKINGS    FROM    THE  u  PICAYUNE." 


MICK  PARREL'S  SERENADE. 

RFCORDER  BALDWIN  was  liberally  patronised  on  »_unday 
and  yesterday.  Among  the  victims  was  Mick  Farrell.  Mick 
took  it  into  his  head  to  get  "  high"  on  Saturday  night,  and 
being  in  liquor  and  in  love,  he  also  took  it  into  his  head  to 
saranade  Bridget  Donahoe,  his  soul's  idol,  who  officiates  as 
Ude  in  a  gentleman's  mansion  in  Carondelet  street.  Mick 
having  taken  his  last  toddy,  tottled  on  to  where  Bridget  acted 
as  principal  cook,  determined  to  soften  her  obdurate  heart  with 
his  syren  voice,  and  ii  he  did  not  succeed,  to  commit  "  infan 
ticide,"  as  he  called  it,  by  drowning  himself  in  the  Mississippi. 
In  fact,  he  had  made  up  his  mind 

"  It  was  the  night 
That  was  to  make  him  or  undo  him  quite  !" 

Having  arrived  at  the  house  that  held  all  his  hopes,  he  look 
ed  into  the  basement  apartment,  vulgarly  called  the  kitchen. 
He  saw  a  light  but  did  not  see  his  beloved  Bridget.  He  at 
once  commenced  singing  his  song  or  serenade.  It  depicted 
the  beauty  of  Bridget  in  the  most  glowing  and  poetical  colours, 
and  represented  his  own  sufferings  as  "  intolerable."  Bridget's 
eyes  were  like  "diamonds  bright,"  her  cheeks  were  like  u  the 
rose,"  her  teeth  (which,  to  speeak  the  truth,  were  none  of  the 
whitest)  were  by  Mick  likened  unto  ivory,  and  her  neck,  to 
which  the  sun  and  the  fire  had  imparted  a  glow  resembling  a  par 
boiled  beefsteak,  he  imaginatively  compared  to  alabaster !  He 
spoke  of  his  own  heart  bleeding,  of  burning  with  love,  of  suffer 
ing  divers  other  torments,  and  wound  up  by  saying  of  Bridget — 

"  She  seems  like  a  goddess  or  some  young  divine, 
That  came  as  a  torment  to  torture  makind!" 

"  Are  you  there,  Bridget  darlin'  ?"  said  Mick,  when  he  finish 
ed  his  song,  "  or  don't  ye  hear  me  spakin'  to  ye  ?  Git  up  there 
and  come  down  here,  cushlamachree,  or  I'll  lose  me  sinses  in- 
tirely.  I've  lost  me  appetite  alriddy :  I've  thried  sassaprilla 
pills,  and  they  wont  cure  me.  Oh,  Bridget  dear,  if  ye  don't 
say  ye  love  me  right  off,  widout  goin'  round  the  bush  about 
it,  I'll  sartinly  go  cracked  and  commit  infanticide!" 

u  Is  that  Mick  ?"  said  Bridget,  putting  her  head  out  of  an 
attic  window. 


A  MUSICAL  MELEE.  181 

"TThroth,  thin  it's  me  own  self,  acushla,"  said  Mick;  "all 
o'  me  that's  in  it.  I'm  wasted  away  like  a  withered  praty  stalk, 
thinkin'  of  yer  purty  face,  sleepiu'  and  wakin,'  night,  noon  and 
mornin'!" 

"  Mick  !"  said  Bridget. 

"What's  that,  a  colleen  ?"  says  Mick. 

u  Yoii're  an  ass,  Mick!"  said  Bridget,  very  composedly. 

uOmille-o'-murdher!  fire!  robbery!  I'm  kilt!"  roared  Mick, 
and  he  commenced  cutting  up  fantastic  tricks  like  one  actually 
beside  himself. — The  simple  monosyllable  ass  applied  to  him 
by  Bridget  seemed  to  have  in  a  moment  quenched  the  light  of 
reason  in  him.  Fortunately  the  watchman  came  up  as  he  was 
in  the  height  of  his  vagaries,  and  took  him  to  the  watchhouse. 

On  Sunday  morning,  when  called  on  by  the  Recorder  to 
account  for  his  strange  conduct,  he  said  it  was  uall  ovvin'  to 
the  dhrop  o'  dhrink  and  a  sort  of  a  tindher  regard"  he  had  for 
Bridget  Donahoe. 

The  Recorder  told  him  he  should  let  him  go  on  paying  jail 
fees,  but  if  he  should  be  ever  caught  again  annoying  the  quiet 
of  the  city,  he  would  be  sent  down  \  it  would  matter  not  whether 
the  cause  was  love  or  liquor. 

Mick  made  his  best  bow  and  departed. 


A  MUSICAL  MELEE. 

THE  Recorder  recently  received  a  visit  from  a  customer  who 
looked  as  though  he  had  been  roughly  used  in  more  ways  than 
one.  His  coat  appeared  to  have  been  rudely  handled,  and  bore 
strong  evidence  that  some  other  hand  than  that  of  Time  had 
been  at  work  upon  it.  His  eyes  had  variegated  borders  about 
them,  and  the  balls  themselves  had  evidently  been  operated 
upon  for  strabismus  on  the  Kentucky  system.  His  nose  was 
twisted  about  "  every  which  way,"  as  the  saying  is,  and  his 
forehead  had  more  bumps  upon  it  than  can  be  found  on  any 
phrenological  chart  in  Christendom.  In  short,  his  whole 
visage  looked  as  though  some  young  beginner  had  been  scratch 
ing  the  notes  of  the  more  difficult  passages  of  the  Battle  of 
Prague  upon  it.  Walking  up  to  the  Recorder  with  a  mincing, 
sliding,  shuffling  gait,  and  politely  removing  his  hat,  which 
also  bore  evident  maik/s  of  having  been  "  out"  with  him  in  some 
recent  hard  skrimmage,  he  began  with — 


182  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  UPICATLNE." 

"Monsieur  le  President,  sare,  you  see  I  be  killed  vid  one 
d — n  salt  and  batter,  and  I  calls  for  you  to  hang  all  de  d — n 
rascal  in  de  vorld  vera  quick." 

"  Who  are  you  £"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  I  am  de  first  fiddle,  sare." 

"  And  can  discourse  most  eloquent  music,  no  doubt,"  con 
tinued  the  Recorder. 

"  Oui,  very  much,"  retorted  the  first  fiddle,  with  an  air  of 
ludicrous  importance. 

"  And  who  blacked  your  eyes  ?" 

"  D — n,  by  gar,  it  was  de  rascal  double  bass  did  black  my 
two  eye." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  him  to  be  so  base,  so  low  a  character," 
^said  the  Recorder. 

"Solo!  by  gar  it  was  one  quartette,  sare. — De  double  bass 
he  blacky  my  eye,  ad  de  trombone  did  put  in  vat  you  call  de 
big  licks  in  my — vat  you  call  dis  ?"  placing  his  hand  on  his 
forehead. 

"And  those  hieroglyphics  on  your  face — let  us  hear  who 
else  was  in  the  row,"  continued  the  Recorder. 

"  I  will  explain  de  whole  affair,  sare,  in  two  minit.  You 
see,  dat  while  de  big  fiddle  was  black  my  two  eye  and  de 
trombone  was  develop  dese  bumps,  de  French  horn  and  de 
clarionet  was  playin'  at  my  face  and  nose,  and — " 

"  Why  the  whole  orchestra  was  performing  away  on  you  at 
the  same  time." 

"  Yes,  sare,  and  very  much  out  ob  de  tune,  at  dat.  I  feel 
so  very  much  provoke  dat  I  could  tear  my  shirt  in  forty  piece. 
D — n,  dey  knock  me  into  de  middle  of  nex  week." 

"Were  you  in  liquor  at  the  time  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Wat  you  call  in  liquor,  eh  ?" 

"  Were  you  drunk,  to  speak  plainly  ?" 

"  Entre  deux  vins,"  said  the  first  fiddle,  with  an  assenting 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  ;  "  I  was  leetle  drunk,  leetle  how  come 
you  to  be  so,  dat's  a  fac." 

"  Well,  sir,"  you  call  again  when  1  am  not  so  busy,  and  I 
will  take  your  affidavit  against  every  instrument  in  the  orchestra 
\hat  was  engaged  in  the  affray,  for  they  evidently  played  upon 
you  to  some  purpose.  It  was  certainly  a  most  inharmonious 
proceeding." 

The  first  fiddle  bowed  and  left  the  office,  threatening  to 
blow  the  French  horn  sky  high,  cram  the  trombone  down  its 
owner's  throat  and  kick  the  big  fiddle  into  perfect  fits. 


A  VIOLATION  OP  THE  TREATY.  183 


A  VIOLATION  OF  THE  TREATY. 

AMONG  the  appellants  for  justice  at  the  Recorder's  office  yes 
terday,  was  Damon  Dunfield,  an  old  Ethiopian,  whose  wood- 
saw  was  hung  on  his  shoulder  like  the  guitar  of  a  troubadour, 
ere  the  days  of  chivalry  had  gone  by.  Damon  looked  about 
as  wise  as  an  owl  in  daylight;  he  appeared  to  have  borrowed 
for  the  occasion,  the  dilapidated  hat  of  Jacques  Strop,  and  the 
remainder  of  his  wardrobe  seemed  made  to  match.  His  hair 
was  a  grizzly  gray,  and  his  face  wrinkled  and  puckery,  like  a 
postillion's  boot. 

u  I  wants  to  hab  dis  'ere  business  settled,  massa  'Corder, 
dagreeable  to  de  constirtushun." 

"  What  business  is  that  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Whoy,  you  sees,  massa  'Corder,  dis  'ere  nigga  has  wior- 
lated  de  treaty  affer  de  boundary  line  was  'greed  to  'tween  us." 

"  Dis  'ere  nigga,"  to  which  Damon  alluded,  was  a  big,  burly 
black,  with  teeth  enough  to  form  the  stock  in  trade  of  a  den 
tist,  and  a  pair  of  eyes  that  curvetted  about  in  their  sockets 
like  the  revolving  lamp  of  a  light-house. 

"  And  pray,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  what  has  this  negro  to  do 
with  the  violation  of  the  treaty  or  the  tracing  of  the  boundary 
line  ?" 

u  I  aint  got  nuffin  at  all,"  said  the  fellow  with  the  mouthful 
of  bones. 

M  But  I  says  you  hab,"  said  Damon,"  and  I'll  just  'splain  d* 
whole  ting  to  massa  Judge,  in  less  time  dan  I'd  be  sharpenin' 
my  saw." 

"  Well,  then,  let  us  hear  you,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Wai,  it's  jus'  dis,  massa,"  said  Damon,  "  you  sees  dis 
chil'  is  an  old  squatter  and  no  mistake.  I's  had  what  you 
may  call  de  pre-emption  right  to  de  cuttin'  ob  all  de  wood 
'tween  Canal  and  Customhouse  streets  and  de  Lebee  and  Dau 
phin  streets,  I  doesn't  know  how  long;  wal,  dis  'ere  nigga 
comes  and  he  cuts  into  my  cus'omers  wood,  and  cuts  me  out, 
for  he  interferes  wid  my  wested  rights.  Wal,  massa,  yon  sees 
I  speak  to  him  like  a  book,  or  jus'  as  massa  Webster  did  to 
Lord  Ass-bur'on,  and  I  conwinces  him  right  up  and  down  dat 
he  aint  no  right  to  'trude  on  my  bound'ry." 

"  Guess,  ol'  fella,  I  knows  de  science  ob  wood  sawin'  well 
as  you  do,"  said  the  big  negro,  "  dere  aint  notin'  in  the  con 
stirtushun  to  perwent  me,  neider," 


184  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

"Silence,  sir,"  said  the  Recorder;  and  silence  having  pre 
vailed,  Damon  continued — 

"  Wai,  as  1  was  sayin',  massa  Judge,  when  I  showed  him 
my  exclusib  pribileges,  he  tho't  to  come  de  diplermatics  ober 
me,  but  he  couldn't  shine,  no  how,  so  finerly  he  'grees  not  to 
cut  no  wood  widin  my  limerts — no  way,  no  somedevor." 

"I  didn't  sign  no  documents,"  said  the  big  negro. 

"  You  pledged  de  word  ob  a  wood-sawyer  and  a  darkey 
dat  you  wouldn't,"  said  Damon,  "and  now  I  cotches  you  at 
it  ebery  day." 

"  Did  he  commit  any  assault  and  battery  on  you  ?"  said  the 
Recorder. 

"He  didn't,"  said  Damon,  "but  you  sees, massa  Judge,  he's 
a  strange  nigga,  and  I  calls  on  you  to  purtect  home  industry. 
1  wants  you  to  go  in  for  what  massa  Clay  calls  de'Merican 
system." 

The  Recorder  assured  Damon  that  he  would  do  all  in  his 
power  to  protect  home  industry,  and  to  support  the  American 
system,  but  that  he  could  not  interfere  with  his  rival  in  busi 
ness,  or  prevent  his  sawing  wood  within  the  imaginary  boun 
dary  lines  to  which  he  (the  plaintiff)  seemed  to  set  up  a  pre 
scriptive  right. 

The  case  was  dismissed.  Damon  shouldered  his  saw,  and 
pledged  himself  to  bring  the  case  before  a  higher  court. 


ALLWELL,  NOT  ALL  RIGHT. 

THE  proceedings  of  the  police  office  were  yesterday  varied 
by  the  rehearsal  of  what  would  be  called  in  the  playbills 
"a  drama  of  domestic  interest."  The  principal  characters — 
those  whose  names  would  be  underlined,  if  the  subject  had 
been  dramatized — were  Dudley  Dobbs,  and  what  out  of  court 
esy  we  shall  call  his  better  half.  Oliver  All  well,  too,  had  a 
part  assigned  to  him  in  the  piece;  but  as  it  was  not  a  main  one, 
we  shall  for  the  present  pass  him  over. 

Dobbs  has  passed  the  summer  of  life,  though  his  appearance 
as  yet  gives  but  little  evidence  of  the  sear  leaf  of  autumn.  He 
is  a  pursy  little  man,  with  a  round,  red  face,  and  evidently  of 
3,  bilious,  nervous  temperament.  Before  his  case  was  called 


Wai,  it's  jus'  dis,  massa,"  said  DamoD,  "you  sees  dis  chil'  is  an.  old  squatter, 
and  no  mistake." — Page  183. 


ALLWELL,  NOT  ALL  WELL.  185 

up  he  paced  the  court-room  backward  and  forward,  sometimes 
suddenly  striking  the  boards  with  his  cane;  at  other  times 
striking  his  forehead,  which  was  bald,  with  the  palm  of  his 
hand,  and  exclaiming  in  a  semi-suppressed  voice — "  J'm  a 
miserable  man  ! — False,  fickle  Fanny  !  envious  Allwell." 

u  Mrs.  Dobbs'  "  human  face  divine"  was  concealed  beneath 
the  folds  of  a  green  veil.  What  her  personal  charms  were,  at 
that  stage  of  the  proceedings,  it  was  impossible  to  discover. 
She  kept  up  a  pendulum  kind  of  movement  with  her  body,  as 
if  she  were  practising  experiments  on  perpetual  motion. 

In  the  course  of  human  events — or,  more  strictly  speaking, 
when  the  names  that  preceded  those  of  Dobbs  and  Allwell  on 
the  watch  report  had  been  called  over  and  disposed  of,  then 
did  the  clerk  call  out — "  Allwell  versus  Dobbs — witness,  Mrs. 
Dobbs." 

"I  call  on  the  court  to  dismiss  this  case  at  once,"  said  Mr. 
Dobbs.  "  It  was  a  prostitution  of  judicial  power  to  have  ever 
brought  me  here,  and  I  protest  against  any  investigation,  as  an 
unnecessary  and  illegal  exposure  of  domestic  privacy." 

"  The  court  knows  its  duty,  Mr.  Dobbs,"  said  the  Recorder, 
"and  will  perform  it.  You  have  been  subpoenaed  here  to 
answer  to  an  assault,  and  not  to  instruct  the  court  in  its  duty. 
It  is  vested  with  a  power  to  shield  itself  from  insult,  or  at  least 
with  a  power  to  punish  for  any  insult  offered.  Beware  sir,  how 
you  address  it." 

"Dobbs,  dear,  be  calm,"  interposed  Mrs.  Dobbs,  partially 
raising  her  green  veil  and  looking  entreaty ;  "  don't  offend  his 
honour." 

"  I  will,"  Dobbs ;  « that  is,  I  will  not  suffer  myself  to  be 
brought  before  a  public  court  by  that  scoundrel  Allwell,  whose 
very  name  is  a  misnomer,  without  protesting  against  it !" 

During  these  preliminary  remarks  Mr.  Oliver  Allwell  sat 
with  his  chair  poised  back  against  the  wall,  the  hind  feet  of  it 
only  touching  the  boards,  and  his  feet  resting  on  the  front 
rung.  He  was  paring  his  nails,  and  we  could  hear  him  hum 
ming,  soto  voce — 

"  Dance,  the  boatman  dance." 

Being  the  complainant,  however,  he  was  called  on  to  state  his 
charge.  He  did  so  briefly,  and  in  a  manner  which  showed 
that  he  feared  not  Mr.  Dobbs,  either  in  or  out  of  a  passion. 

"May  it  please  your  honour,  sir,"  said  Allwell,  "  I  recently 
arrived  in  the  city,- and  accidentally  met  with  Mrs.  Dobbs,  who 


186  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

was  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine — in  fact,  I  was  her  beau,  as 
we  say." 

Here  Dobbs  looked  daggers  at  Mrs.  Dobbs,  and  bowie- 
knives  at  Allwell. 

Allwell  continued — "  In  short,  your  honour,  she  invited  me 
to  tea  on  Friday  evening,  when  every  thing  passed  off  well. 
Again,  on  invitation,  I  took  tea  with  her  and  her  husband  on 
Monday  evening.  Mrs.  D.  and  I  talked  of  old  times,  and 
dwelt  upon  by-gone  reminiscences,  when  Dobbs,  without  any 
previous  intimation  of  his  design,  actually  pushed  me  out  of 
his  house  !  I  could,  but  I  would  not,  inflict  upon  him  personal 
chastisement,  preferring  to  have  him  punished  by  the  strong 
arm  of  the  law." 

"  Now  J  shall  hear  you,  Mrs.  Dobbs,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"Dobby,  my  duck,"  said  Mrs.  Dobbs,  "ask  Mr.  Allwell's 
pardon ;  do,  my  dear,  he  is  such  a  nice  gentleman." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Dobbs,"  said  Mr.  Dobbs,  "  and  I  thought  you 

were  a  nice  gentlewoman — a  discreet  woman — a but  I'm 

deceived  in  you,  Mrs.  D.  You " 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  this  charge,  Mr.  Dobbs  ?"  asked 
the  Recorder. 

"  This,  your  honour,"  said  Mr.  Dobbs: — "On  Thursday 
last  my  wife  was  out  shopping,  and  when  she  came  in  she  said 
to  me, 'Dobby,  my  dear,'  says  she,  (she  always  calls  me 
Dobby,  and  I  call  her  Fan,  for  short — her  Christian  name  is 
Fanny) — '  Dobby,  my  dear,'  says  she.  '  What  is  it,  Fan,  my 
love,'  says  I.  '  I  just  met  my  cousin  Allwell,  from  New  York, 
and  I  invited  him  to  tea  to-morrow  evening,'  says  she.  '  I 
s'pose  it's  all  right,  my  love,'  says  I.  '  It  is  Dobby,  dear,'  says 
she,  '  he's  such  a  nice  man.'  '  Well,  your  honour,  he  did  tea 
it  with  us  on  Friday  evening,  and  between  them  they  engrossed 
the  whole  conversation ;  I  seemed  to  be  nobody  with  them, 
and  I  certainly  did  not  feel  like  myself.  They  talked  of 
nothing  but  pic-nics  at  Hoboken,  drives  to  Harlem,  boating 
parties  to  Staten  Island,  and  society  balls  in  all  parts  of  the 
city.  I  bore  it,  your  honour — bore  it  like  a  man  ;  but,  would 
you  believe  it,  when  I  came  home,  on  Monday  evening, 

"  Oh !  Dobby  dear,  d "  interrupted  Mrs.  Dobbs. 

"Never  c Dobby'  or  'dear'  me  again,  madam!"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Dobbs:  "I  detest  deception,  ma'am."— [Here  Mrs.  D. 
insinuated  her  white  handkerchief  to  the  corper  of  her  eye.] — 
Dobbs  continued  : — "Yes,  your  honour, — when  I  came  home 


LOVE   AND  LETTER  WRITING.  187 

on  Monday  evening,  I  actually  found  him  with  his  arm  round 
her  neck,  and  he  reading  '  The  Mysteries  of  Paris'  to  her ! 
4  Dobby,'  says  she.  'Mrs.  D.,'  says  I.  '  Love !'  says  she. 
'Fiddlesticks!'  says  I.  'That  scoundrel,'  says  I — 'your  coz, 
as  you  call  him — quits  this  house  instantly.'  'You'll  drive  me 
mad,  Dobbs,'  says  she.  '  You  have  driven  me  crazy,  madam,' 
says  I ;  '  but,  at  all  events,  out  he  goes,' — and  so  out  I  put 
him." 

Mrs.  Dobbs  was  called  on  by  both  plaintiff  and  defendant 
to  give  testimony  in  their  favour;  but  she  preferred  to  remain 
neutral,  except  so  far  as  her  entreaties  to  both  Allwell  and 
"Dobby"  went,  to  settle  the  affair  amicably. 

As  there  was  no  "  battery"  proven,  the  Recorder  simply 
bound  Dobbs  over  to  keep  the  peace;  but  he  advised  Mrs. 
Dobbs  never  to  invite  even  a  cousin  to  tea.  unless  her  husband 
approved  of  the  invitation. 


LOVE  AND  LETTER  WRITING. 

YESTERDAY  a  most  romantic  looking  young  gentleman 
made  his  appearance  at  the  police  office. — An  unsealed  note, 
which  came  "greeting"  from  the  Recorder,  politely  command 
ing  him  to  "  be  and  appear"  there  at  ten  o'clock  and  answer 
to  the  complaint  of  Mrs.  Martha  Williamson,  and  which  ended 
by  a  hint  to  "fail  not  at  his  peril,"  bringing  visions  of  the 
calaboose  before  his  excitable  imagination — was  the  immediate 
cause  of  his  presence  in  that  particular  temple  of  justice.  His 
face  Mas  overhung  by  a  profusion  of  coal-black  hair,  which 
he  wove  in  ringlets — he  called  them  hyperion  curls — and  his 
face  was  as  pale  and  pensive  as  if  he  were  preparing  to  act  the 
ghost  in  a  melo-drama.  He  gazed  through  his  eye-glass  with 
an  air  of  supercilious  scorn,  and  seemed  even  to  regard  the 
Recorder  as  some  fel-low  beneath  his  dignity.  He  looked  like 
one  who  breakfasted  on  love-sonnets,  who  dined  on  sentiment, 
supped  on  serenades,  and  slept  on  romance.  He  seemed,  in  a 
word 


The  very  extasy  of  love  ; 


Whose  violent  property  forebodes  itself, 
And  leads  the  will  to  desperate  undertakings, 
As  oft  as  any  passion  under  heaven 
That  does  afflict  our  natures." 

When  Mrs.  Martha  Williamson  was  called,  a  woman  entei 


188  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

ing  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf  of  life  made  her  appearance. 
Though  her  eyes  had  lost  some  of  their  pristine  brilliancy, 
their  glances  were  still  quick  and  subtle,  and  evinced  a  dis 
trustful  watchfulness  of  all  over  which  she  had  control.  She 
was  told  by  the  Recorder  to  state  the  complaint  she  had  to 
make  against  Theophilus  Travere — and  this  led  us  into  the 
secret  of  the  romantic  gentleman's  nomenclature. 

The  old,  or  rather  the  more  than  middle-aged  woman,  be 
fore  commencing  a  recital  of  her  wrongs,  adjusted  her  gloves 
and  threw  back  her  black  veil  over  her  bonnet,  leaving  the 
margin  of  it  to  hang  gracefully  over  her  forehead  as  so  much 
drapery  : — u  O,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Williamson,  cooling  her  temples, 
with  an  artificial  current  of  air  created  by  the  motion  of  her 
fan — "  O,  sir,  I  wants  to  have  this  here  man  put  in  the  peni 
tentiary." 

"In  the  penitentiary!"  said  the  Recorder,  with  surprise; 
"  why  what  has  he  been  doing  ?" 

"  There's  what  he  has  been  doing,"  said  Mrs.  Williamson, 
drawing  a  pocket-book  from  her  reticule  and  drawing  from 
the  pocket-book  some  half  dozen  letters,  fancifully  folded, 
some  in  diamond  shape,  and  others  in  the  form  of  a  triangle. 
'••  There's  what  he  has  been  a  doing ;  writing  love-letters  to 
my  daughter  till  he  has  fairly  turned  her  head." 

They  were  addressed  to  Miss  Clementha  Clarinda  Levina 
Williamson,  and  were  "sure  enough"  love-letters,  as  full  of 
rhapsody  and  romance,  of  poetry  and  plighted  vows,  as  a  bal 
loon  is  full  of  gas. 

The  Recorder  was  proceeding  to  open  these  missives,  forged 
in  Cupid's  arsenal  and  aimed  at  the  heart  of  the  amiable  and 
interesting  Clementha  Clarinda  Lavina  Williamson,  when 
Theophilus  Travere  entered  his  protest  against  such  a  pro 
ceeding  in  the  following  words  : 

"  I  waise  my  pwotest  against  any  man,  even  the  Rocawdaw 
of  this  onowable  court  weading  my  pwiwate  lettaws  or  pa- 
paws." 

"  It  is  necessary  I  should  read  them,"  said  the  Recorder, 
"  in  order  to  discover  the  nature  of  your  offence." 

"  Well  then,  to  save  the  cooat  twoble,"  said  Theophilus, 
"I  at  once  admit  I  am  the  awthaw  of  those  pwoductions.  I 
have,  fo*  the  first  time,  felt  the  tendaw  passion  fo'  the  admiw- 
able  Miss  Williamson,  and  have  made  these  bwief  epwistles 
the  medium  of  communicawting  to  my  soul's  idol  the  intensity 
of  my  passion." 


LOVE  AND  LETTER  WRITING.  189 

Here  is  one  of  the  billet  deaux,  which  we  think  should  find 
a  place  in  the  next  "  Ready  Letter  Writer." 

No.  17. ,  street,  March,  1841. 

"  Doubt  thou  the  stars  are  fire  ; 

Doubt  that  the  sun  would  move  ; 
Doubt  truth  to  be  a  liar; 
But  never  doubt  I  love  !" 

"  Angelic  Clementha  Clarinda  Lavina — 

"Fairest  of  creation's  fair  !  most  adorable  of  thy  sex  !  my  soul's  best 
idol !  will  not  love,  pity  or  compassion  move  you  to  grant  me  an  inter 
view  ?  Will  the  admonitions  of  a  morose  mother,  prevail  over  the  ardent 
solicitations  of  your  impassioned  lover  ?  Can  it  be  that  a  soul  enshrined 
in  a  form  so  lovely  as  yours,  is  insensible  to  the  influences  of  the  platoruc 
passion,  and  that  eyes  beaming  with  such  beauty  will  apply  no  salve  to 
the  wound  which  they  have,  unconsciously  no  doubt,  made  ?  O,  dearest 
Clementha  Clarinda  Lavina!  I  am  being  consumed  by  the  wasiing  tire 
of  love,  which  your  charms  have  enkindled  in  rny  bosom,  and  unless  you 
form  some  scheme  of  seeing  me  ere  long,  you  will  leave  me  like  the  phcsnix 
in  my  nest  to  burn ! 

"  Alas  !  that  love,  so  gentle  in  his  mien, 
Should  be  so  tyrannous  and  rough  in  proof! 

Adorably  ever  thine, 

THEOPHILUS  TRAVERE. 

"  P.  S.  I  send  this  by  the  negro  woman  Dinah,  who  will  wait  on  you 
this  afternoon  for  an  answer.  T.  T. 

"P.  S.  S.  Don't  let  that  petrified  piece  of  mortality,  your  anxious 
mother,  see  this.  T.  T. 

"  P.  P.  S.  S.  My  name  is  not  signed  with  red  ink,  but  with  my  blood 
— my  heart's  blood.  Is  not  that  a  proof  of  the  sacrifice  I  am  prepared  to 
make  for  your  sake.  T.  T." 

The  Recorder  having  perused  this  document  and  the  others 
which  were  of  a  similar  import,  facetiously  smiled  and  informed 
Mrs.  Williamson  that,  so  far  as  he  could  judge  from  the  letters 
before  him,  Mr.  Theophilus  Travere  was  not  guilty  of  a  peni 
tentiary  offence,  or  indeed  of  any  offence  at  all  of  which  the 
law  could  take  cognisance,  unless  writing  nonsense  might  be 
considered  a  capital  offence — a  supposition  which  any  thing 
6e  read  in  "  the  books"  did  not  warrant  him  in  coming  to. 
He  discharged  the  case,  but  cautioned  Theophilus  against 
doing  any  thing  that  would  disturb  the  peace  of  Mrs.  William 
son's  family. 

Theophilus  bowed  and  retired.  Mrs.  W.  retired  without 
lowing. 


190  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  '    IrJAYUNE." 


A  LIVEHOOSIER. 

WE  love  to  look  at  a  real,  genuine,  live  Hoosier,  and  we 
love  to  talk  to  him.  We  do  not  mean  those  fever  and  ague 
affected  fellows  who  find  their  way  into  Indiana  and  out  of  it 
again,  and  who  are  little  better  than  locomotive  medicine 
chests  ;  we  mean  those  stalworth  sons  of  the  soil,  with  sound 
hearts  and  strong  arms,  who  are  "  to  the  manner  born." 
Such  a  one  is  John  Whitworth,  whom  we  met  yesterday  in 
the  Second  Municipality  police  office.  John  came  to  Orleans  in 
his  favourite  mode  of  conveyance,  a  flatboat.  The  captain  of  the 
flatboat,  in  paying  off  John,  gave  him  a  bad  ten  dollar  bill,  of 
which  he  was  not  aware.  John  caught  our  fancy  wonderfully, 
and  while  setting  on  a  side  seat,  waiting  for  proof  of  his  inno 
cence,  we  sat  beside  him  with  a  view  of  bringing  him  out. 

"  What  height  are  you  ?"  said  we. 

"  Six  feet  three,  scant,"  said  John. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  find  room  for  yourself  in  the  watch- 
house  ?"  said  we. 

"  1  coiled  myself  up,5'  said  John. 

"  What  age  are  you,"  said  we. 

"  Twenty-two,  come  next  husking  time,"  said  John. 

"Ever  been  in  a  calaboose  before  ?"  said  we. 

"No,  sir-r-r;  it  was  my  first  time  to  look  through  the  iron 
bars,"  said  John. 

u  What  is  your  politics  ?"  said  we. 

"  I'm  touched  off  mighty  strong  with  whiggery,  I  tell  you, 
stranger,"  said  John. 

"  Why  are  you  not  a  locofoco  ?"  said  we. 

"  I  couldn't  no  how,"  said  John — "  1  live  too  near  the  old 
coon  (Harrison)  for  that." 

"  Indiana  is  a  fine  country  to  live  in,  no  doubt,"  said  we — 
"  plenty  of  corn,  bread,  whiskey  and  all  that." 

"  Yes,  sir-r-r,"  said  John — "  it's  an  extensive  country ; 
plenty  of  corn,  bread,  pork  and  all  that,  as  you  say,  and — 
whiskey  out  of  the  ashes" 

What  this  last  phrase  meant,  we  could  not  divine,  and  we 
candidly  confessed  our  ignorance  to  John,  who  seemed  to 
pity  us  for  our  limited  comprehension,  but  told  us  it  meant 
"lots,"  "plenty."  The  dialogue  broke  off  here.  We  need 
not  say  that  John  was  honourably  discharged. 


A  NEGATIVE  BEAUTY.  191 


A  NEGATIVE  BEAUTY. 

IN  the  countenance  of  Catharine  Gafney  many  of  the  es 
sentials  to  beauty  exist,  but  they  are  not  arranged  or  regulated 
well.  But  for  a  slight  misplacing  of  these  essentials,  Catharine 
would  be  a  charming  creature,  and  indeed  as  it  is,  we  can  only 
say  that  her  style  of  countenance  differs  from  our  beau  ideal, 
though  to  others  she  may  still  be  all  fascination.  We  were 
early  prejudiced  in  favour  of  red  lips,  and  consequently  we 
cannot  easily  reconcile  ourselves  to  seeing  the  ruby  of  beauty 
transferred  from  the  lips  to  the  nose.  Neither  can  we  easily 
surrender  our  preference  for  a  full  row  of  pearly  teeth,  instead 
of  a  cavern  of  stumps 

"  Like  broken  bottles  on  an  old  dead  wall." 

We  like  blue  eyes  and  black  eyes,  but  we  have  a  foolish  an 
tipathy  to  eyes  that  are  black  and  blue.  Hair  is  undoubtedly 
an  ornament  to  man  and  woman,  yet,  as  there  may  sometimes 
be  too  much  of  it,  so  there  may  sometimes  be  too  little.  Cath 
arine  has  just  thirty-seven  hairs,  and  as  she  scorns  to  wear  a 
wig,  this  fact  is  fully  apparent.  Of  these  thirty-seven  hairs, 
Catharine  at  any  rate  boasts  a  pleasant  variety  in  the  way  of 
colour,  ten  of  them  being  gray,  ten  brown,  ten  red.  and  seven 
yellow.  Catharine's  eyes  are  red,  caused,  probably,  by  her 
looking  crosswise  continually  at  her  ripe  red  nose.  Qitha- 
rine's  lips  are  blue,  her  cheeks  yellow,  her  forehead  and  neck 
brown,  and  with  admirable  taste  her  dress  is  composed  of  an 
assortment  of  these  same  colours — blue,  brown,  black,  red,  gray, 
saffron,  every  colour  but  white  is  mingled  in  Catharine's  dress ; 
and  with  commendable  independence  of  mind  she  has,  in  spite 
of  the  tyranny  of  fashion,  abandoned  the  health-destroying 
corset,  so  that  her  motley  coloured  gown 

"  Floats  as  wild  as  summer  breezes, 

Leaving  every  beauty  free 
To  sink  or  swell  as  heaven  pit 


Catharine  stood  yesterday  in  the  Recorder's  court — not  like 
a  Madonna,  nor  a  Muse,  nor  like  Madame  Lecomte,  nor  like 
Venus 

"  When  she  rose 

Out  of  the  sea,  and  with  her  life  did  fill 
The  Grecian  Isles  with  everlasting  verdure." 


192  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

but  like  her  own  identical  and  not-to-be-counterfeited  sel£y 
Catharine  Gafney. 

Recorder. — "  So,  Mrs.  Gafney,  you're  here  again." 

Catharine. — "  Troth,  thin,  I  dare  say  I  am  here,  since  yout 
honour  says  so.  Sure  it's  not  there  ye  are  sittin'  to  be  tellin' 
lies." 

Recorder. — "  What  could  I  do  for  you  now,  Mrs.  Gafney , 
to  induce  you  to  give  over  drinking  and  become  a  respectable 
woman  ?" 

Catharine. — "  Seduce !  Is  it  me  ?  me,  is  it  your  honour 
would  seduce  ?  Troth  thin,  yer  a  broth  of  a  boy,  and  I'll  be 
yer  bonny  Kate,  and " 

Recorder. — "Silence,  woman  !    You  are  wilfully  perverse." 

Catharine. — "Divil  a  bit  of  it,  I'm  Catharine  Gafney." 

Recorder. — "  Lock  her  up." 

Catharine. — "  What,  on  a  '  Patrick's  day  in  the  morning !'  " 

Recorder. — "  Take  her  away." 

Catharine  commenced  blubbering;  in  the  middle  of  her  tears 
breaking  out  into  a  plaintive  song,  and  stretching  her  arms 
imploringly  towards  the  magistrate,  she  breathed  forth,  in  soul- 
touching  pathos, 

"  Though  Heave  thee  now  in  sorrow  ;" 

the  exquiste  words  receiving  new  beauty  from  the  melodious 
brogue  of  Catharine.  She  continued, 

"  We  will  meet  again  to-rnorrow." 

"  No  we  wont,"  said  the  magistrate.    "  Officer,  lock  her  up 
for  thirty  days.    We'll  keep  her  sober  for  a  month,  at  any  rate." 
Poor  Kate  was  led  away  to  durance. 


A  PUBLIC  PATRIOT. 

OR,  AN   ACUTE    ALLEGHANIAN. 

THOMAS  JEFFERSON  WASHINGTON  JONES  vras  yesterday 
brought  before  the  Recorder,  on  the  charge  of  gathering  a  crowd 
and  creating  a  disturbance  the  evening  previous,  at  the  corner 
of  St.  Charles  and  Gravier  streets. 

Mr.  Thomas  Jefferson  Washington  Tones  is  a  gentleman  of 
a  full  habit  but  scanty  wardrobe — plus  of  patriotism,  but  minus 
of  means. 


A  PUBLIC   PATRIOT.  193 

u  In  what  manner  did  the  prisoner  gather  a  crowd  ?"  said 
the  Recorder,  "or  how  create  a  disturbance  ?" 

"  Why,  he  was  a-cuttin'  up  all  kinds  of  didoes,"  said  the 
watchman — "  a-talkin'  about  Annexation  and  Oregon,  and  all 
that,  and  cussin'  the  'Istorical  Society,  I  thinks  he  called  it." 

u  I  protest  against  any  charge  made  by  that  individual  being 
recorded  against  me,"  said  the  prisoner;  "he  has  neither  ca 
pacity  to  understand  my  position,  nor  patriotism  to  appreciate 
it." 

"  He  is  a  municipal  officer,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  and  I  am 
bound  to  receive  his  statement." 

"  Then  if  such  be  one  of  the  streams  through  which  justice 
flows,"  replied  the  prisoner — "  if  he  be  one  of  the  conduits 
through  which  law  is  administered,  justice  necessarily  needs 
filtering — law  requires  a  less  impure  course.  If  it  please  you, 
however,  let  him  proceed,  and  Heaven  help  the  Republic,  I 
say  !"  This  appeal  he  accompanied  by  a  reverential  twist  of 
his  eyes  upwards. 

The  Recorder  told  the  watchman  to  go  on  and  state  the  cir 
cumstances  under  which  he  arrested  the  prisoner. 

He  stated  the  same  in  substance  as  was  written  in  the  charge. 
The  prisoner  was  haranguing  a  crowd  about  Texas,  Oregon 
and  Alleghania,  and  he  knew  not  what.  He  told  him  to  go 
on,  but  instead  of  complying,  he  abused  him  and  went  on  with 
his  speech. 

"  Fool !"  exclaimed  the  prisoner,  "  what  else  should  I  do 
but  abuse  you  ?  Praise  of  you  would  be  censure  in  disguise  , 
besides " 

"  I  shall  not  allow  you,  Mr. what's-your-name,"  replied 

the  Recorder,  "  to  use  such  language  to  the  watchman  in  my 
presence.  If  you  have  any  thing  to  say  in  your  defence,  I 
shall  hear  it ;  preserve  your  vituperation  for  another  place— 
your  invective  for  a  more  fitting  opportunity." 

"I  thank  you,  most  worthy  judge,"  said  the  prisoner,  "for 
the  advice,  and  shall  be  guided  by  it :  and  now  for  my  defence. 
But  first  of  my  name,  which  you  seem  to  have  forgotten,  but 
which  I  thought  was  graven  on  the  door-plate  that  opened — 
the  door  I  mean,  your  honour,  not  the  plate — to  the  inner 
chamber  of  every  American  heart.  Who,  sir — what  American 
— can  forget  a  name  linked — by  association  of  ideas,  at  least — 
with  the  sage  of  Monticello  and  the  hero  of  Mount  Vernon ; 
for  both  of  whom  History  has  erected  her  monuments — more 

solid  than  marble,  and  more  enduring  than  brass!  Now " 

70 


194  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

u  This  is  all  very  well,  Mr.  Thomas  Jefferson  Washington 
Jones, — I  now  remember  your  name," — interrupted  the  Re 
corder  ;  "  but  what  has  it  to  do  with  the  watchman's  charge  ?" 

"  I  was  about  to  come  to  that,  sir,"  said  the  prisoner,  "  but 
thought  it  necessary  before  doing  so,  to  say  so  much  in  vindi 
cation  of  the  honoured  names  I  bear.  And  now,  sir,  for  the 
charge.  I  was  creating  no  disturbance ;  and  if  a  crowd  did 
gather  round  me,  it  was  done  of  their  own  volition ;  if  they 
did  wrong,  I  cannot  perceive  by  what  rule  of  law  or  ethics  I 
am  to  be  visited  with  punishment  for  their  transgressions.  I 
was  speaking  somewhat  loudly,  it  is  true,  but  J  am  yet  to  learn 
that  there  is  any  Municipal  ordinance  instituting  a  voice-ometer, 
and  making  it  penal  to  pitch  the  voice  above  a  given  standard. 
I  was  speaking,  sir,  of  the  wisdom  and  the  policy  of  Annexa 
tion,  and  our  right — our  imprescriptible  right — to  Oregon;  and 
he  whom  these  subjects  would  not  arouse  and  cause  to  speak 
loud  at  the  present  crisis,  would  suffer  a  man  to  take  his  julep 
from  before  him  and  drink  it  without  remonstrance,  nor  would 
he  cry  'stop  thief!'  if  a  fellow  ran  away  with  his  last  shirt.  I 
touched  too,  sir,  on  the  attempt  made  by  a  club  of  pedantic 
litterateurs  to  change — desecrate,  I  call  it — the  name  of  my 
beloved  country,  and  is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  I  felt  indig 
nant  and  spoke  loudly  ?  Take  the  name  of  the  United  States 
away,  sir,  and  will  not  after  ages  be  puzzled  to  know  the  land 
of  my  illustrious  namesakes  ? — and  then,  to  propose  giving  it 
such  a  name — Alle — Alleghania  ! — why  it's  a  name  fit  only  for 
a  country  inhabited  by  Turks  !  I  would  not,  so  help  me " 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  Recorder.  "  I  perceive,  that  al 
though  you  did  err,  your  motives  render  the  act  excusable. 
You  may  go,  but  in  future  find  some  more  appropriate  place 
for  your  lectures  on  Oregon,  Annexation  and  Alleghania,  than 
the  sidewalk ;  for  however  much,  in  such  a  place,  you  impel 
the  march  of  mind,  you  retard  considerably  the  movement  of 
the  body." 

Thomas  Jefferson  Washington  Jones,  regarding  the  watch 
man  as  mere  human  animalculae,  left  the  court  impressed  with 
the  belief  that  his  release  was  a  decided  triumph  of  mind  over 
matter. 


ANIMAL  MAGNETISM  195 


ANIMAL  MAGNETISM; 

OR,  THE  ATTRACTIVE  VENISON. 

A  FELLOW  was  yesterday  brought  before  the  Recorder,  for 
stealing  off  a  hook  in  the  lower  market  a  quarter  of  venison. 
It  was  a  dark,  semi-decomposed  looking  joint.  A  calendar 
month,  at  least,  must  have  elapsed  since  the  deer  to  which  it 
belonged,  and  part  of  which  it  was,  trod  the  forest ;  yet,  strange 
to  say,  it  bore  within  itself  evidences  innumerable  of  life  and 
animation.  Bating  that  it  was  not  dressed,  it  was  in  that  state 
which  epicures  call  "just  right"  for  eating.  The  fellow  charged 
with  stealing  it  seemed  as  lean  and  hungry  as  if  he  had  gradua 
ted  at  Dotheboys'  Hall  Academy,  and  appeared  as  if  he  could 
help  himself  to  a  plentiful  cut  of  the  venison,  without  being 
ceremonious  about  the  length  of  time  it  had  been  killed,  or 
the  manner  in  which  it  had  been  cooked. 

The  butcher  looked  meat  axes  and  chopping  blocks  at  the 
Recorder,  and  the  Recorder  looked  penitentiaries  at  the  prisoner, 
and  the  prisoner  looked,  like  Pharaoh's  lean  kine,  a  warning 
of  future  famine  to  every  body. 

"  How  did  he  take  it  ?"  asked  the  Recorder,  requiring  of  the 
butcher  a  distinct  statement  of  the  modus  operandi  by  which 
the  prisoner  possessed  himself  of  the  quarter  of  venison. 

"  Why,  he  hooked  it  off  the  hook,  your  honour,"  said  the 
knight  of  the  steel.  "  O,  he's  a  knowin'  'un,  he  is,  I  tell  you. 
I'm  blessed  if  he  did'nt  vatch  me  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  just 
as  if  he  vas  a  custom-house  officer,  and  as  if  I  had  the  carcase 
of  the  dead  cow  before  me  stuffed  wit  Havaner  cigars ;  till,  at 
last,  ven  he  sees  me  cuttin'  a  sirloin  steak  for  jjlrs.  Timkins, 
the  vidder  lady  vot  keeps  the  ecornomical  bordin'  'ouse  and 
takes  payment  in  adwance,  and " 

"  O,  no  matter  about  the  manner  in  which  Mrs.  Timkins 
conducts  her  boarding  house,"  said  the  Recorder.  "  How  did 
he  take  the  venison  ?" 

"  Veil,  just  as  I  was  engaged  vith  Mrs.  Timkins,"  said  the 
oulcher,  "  he  vheels  round  the  pillar,  like  the  feller  in  the 
play  that's  goin'  to  assassirnate  the  two  hinnocent  babes  in  the 
vood,  ven  he  pokes  himself  behind  a  tree,  and  off  he  vhips  the 
wenison.  I  follored  him,  but  he  looked  so  wery  woracious 


196  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

that  Pm  blessed  if  I  didn't  think  he'd  dewour  it,  rawr  and  all 
as  it  vas,  before  I  came  up  to  him." 

The  Recorder  shook  his  head,  as  if  shocked  at  the  palpable 
guilt  of  the  prisoner.  The  idea  of  a  starving  man  stealing  a 
piece  of  steak  was  not  to  be  tolerated.  "  All  such  outrageous 
cases  should  be  met,"  he  said,  "  with  the  most  exemplary 
punishment,  or  there  was  an  end  to  all  law,  and  no  protection 
under  the  constitution."  He  was  about  to  consign  the  prisoner 
to  jail,  when  a  young  lawyer  with  a  large  nose — and  who, 
having  a  large  nose,  fancied  himself  very  like  Lord  Brougham 
— stepped  up  and  begged  the  permission  of  the  court  to  say  a 
few  words  in  behalf  of  the  unfortunate  prisoner.  It  having 
been  granted  him,  the  modern  Brougham  placed  an  antiquated- 
looking  volume  of  "Russell  on  Crimes,"  which  he  had  under 
his  arm,  on  the  table.  He  then  unbuttoned  and  threw  back 
the  breasts  of  a  seedy  black  coat,  ran  the  fingers  of  his  right 
hand  through  his  hair,  coughed  short  and  commenced  : — 

"  May  it  please  the  court :  I  would  say  without  meaning  a 
pun — Lord  Brougham  never  made  puns — that  the  work  of  this 
morning  seems  likely  to  prove  deer  (dear,)  in  more  respects 
than  one,  to  the  starving  individual  whom  I  now  see  before 
me.  I  fully  agree  with  this  honourable  court  in  its  abhorrence 
of  small  vices  :  they  are  the  acorns  of  evil,  of  which  the  large 
and  wholesale  acts  of  swindling  are  the  grown  oaks.  If  a  more 
rigid  execution  of  our  laws  had  been  adopted  heretofore — if 
the  practice  had  prevailed  of  meting  out  severe  and  rigid  punish 
ment  to  the  vulgar  for  their  petty  peccadilloes,  we  would  not 
now,  as  my  friend  Lord  Brougham  remarks  in  his  Essay  on 
the  Spread  of  Demoralization,  find  it  fashionable  and  aristo 
cratic  to  cheat  and  swindle  in  sums  of  thousands !  By  the 
way,  I  would  here  inform  the  court  that  my  friends  are  flatter 
ing  enough  to  say  that  I  resemble  his  lordship " 

Here  he  attempted  to  put  the  nerves  of  his  nose  in  motion, 
so  as  to  stir  tnat  organ  after  the  manner  of  the  ex-chancellor. 

"What  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  charge  of  stealing  the 
vension  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  A  great  deal,  sir :  it  is  my  way — it  was  Lord  Brougham's 
way  of  treating  all  his  cases — I  give  scope — weight,  sir,  to  my 
arguments.  Your  honour  knows  the  French  proverb — Les 
grands  hommes  ne  se  bornent  jamals  dans  leurs  desseins — 
4  Great  men  never  limit  themselves  in  their  plans.' " 

"  Well,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  feel  bound  to  put  a  limit  to 
your  plan  of  defence,  or  I  fear  it  would  be  interminable.  Have 


ANIMAL  MAGNETISM.  197 

you  any  argument  based  on  law,  to  offer  for  the  act  of  larceny 
charged  against  the  prisoner  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  have,"  said  the  counsel:  "  what  1  have  said  was 
no  more  than  my  opening; — Lord  Brougham  always  made  an 
extensive  opening  before  he  entered  on  the  merits." — Here  he 
lookup  "Russell  on  Crimes,"  and  thumbed  several  of  the  leaves 
over  in  quick  succession ;  but,  at  last,  throwing  it  down,  he 
said — u  Oh,  your  honour,  the  whole  case  lies  within  a  nutshell. 
It  is  not  .to  be  found  in  the  books,  because  none  of  our  legal 
authorities  have  yet  incorporated  the  influence  of  the  science 
into  their  works.  It's  all — all  animal  magnetism — all  science, 
sir!" 

"  Why,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  what  can  animal  magnetism 
have  to  do  with  stealing  a  quarter  of  venison  ?" 

"  Every  thing — every  thing,  sir.  It  is  the  quo  animo — the 
ratio  justified — the  head  and  front  of  the  offence.  Lord 
Brougham,  sir,  used  precisely  the  same  argument  in  the  cele 
brated  Queen  Caroline  case." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  I  say  again,  what " 

"  I  crave  but  one  moment  from  the  court,"  interrupted  the 
counsel.  "  I  say  it's  all  animal  magnetism,  and  I  prove  it  thus  : 
— My  client  is  passing  through  the  market ;  he  sees  the  quar 
ter  of  venison  hanging  there ;  the  worms  of  hunger  are  gnawing 
at  his  stomach  ;  thousands  of  aniamalculae,  visible  to  the  naked 
eye,  are  feasting  to  repletion  in  and  upon  the  quarter  of  venison  ; 
from  the  latter  to  the  former  the  magnetic  fluid  is  instantly  and 
invisibly  conveyed,  and — and  then — and  then  let  me  ask  the 
court,  what's  the  necessary — nay,  the  inevitable  consequence, 
as  my  friend  Lord  Brougham  would  say  ?  Why,  sir,  it  is  this 
— that  my  client,  obeying  the  instinct  of  nature  and  the  all-per 
vading  rules  of  animal  magnetism,  goes  and  puts  himself  in  com 
munication  with  the  quarter  of  venison  at  once — right  off,  sir !" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Recorder ;  "  and  for  that  I  shall  send  him 
to  the  Criminal  Court." 

Lord  Brougham  buttoned  up  his  coat  to  the  neck,  drew  on 
a  pair  of  black  kid  gloves,  having  between  them  three  torn 
fingers  and  one  whole  thumb,  slapped  his  hat  professionally  on 
his  head,  and  left  the  court  uttering  anthemas  against  the 
judicial  incapacity  of  recorders  and  the  ignorance  of  the  age, 
in  not  fully  appreciating  the  power  and  influence  of  animal 
magnetism  over  a  hungry  man,  when  a  quarter  of  venison 
hanors  in  the  market  before  him! 


198  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 


A  TAR  IN  TROUBLE. 

WHILE  in  the  office  of  Recorder  Genois  yesterday,  a  police 
officer,  big  with  brief  authority,  entered,  leading  in  a  "  Son  of 
Neptune,"  who  looked  as  dispirited  as  if  he  had  been  cast 
among  the  unfriendly  savages  of  the  Friendly  Islands. 

The  police  officer  said  something  sotto  voce  to  the  Recorder 
— a  rather  pretty  young  woman,  with  dimpled  cheeks,  who 
sat  within  the  railings,  made  a  pantomimic  motion  to  an  old 
woman  with  wrinkled  cheeks  who  was  by  her  side — the  sailor 
looked  imploringly  at  Dimpled  cheeks,  gave  a  hitch  with  his 
sinister  hand  to  his  pantaloons,  and  expectorated  a  portion  of 
the  juice  of  the  tobacco  quid  from  his  mouth.  Poor  fellow ! 
he  seemed  to  say,  "  Here  I  am  like  a  bark  driven  on  the 
breakers,  without  compass  or  chart;  I  hung  out  my  flag  of 
distress,  but  instead  of  that  trim  and  well-beloved  craft  (dim 
pled  cheeks)  coming  to  my  assistance,  she  sent  that  there 
piratical-looking  cruiser  (the  police  officer)  to  haul  me  into 
harbour." 

"  John  Connor  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"Aye,  aye,  your  honour,"  said  John,  advancing  up  to  the 
desk  of  that  functionary  in  a  rocking,  walk-the-deck  kind  of 
gait.  John  at  that  moment  appeared  every  inch  a  sailor.  His 
trousers  were  blue,  and  of  capacious  width  at  the  extremities  ; 
his  jacket  was  of  a  like  colour,  and  cloth,  and  was  plentifully 
supplied  with  pearl  studs ;  his  black  silk  handkerchief  was 
loosely  tied  in  a  swivel  knot,  and  the  collar  of  his  check  shirt 
was  spread  out  over  his  shoulders. 

"  Connor,"  said  the  Recorder, "  this  woman  here,  Ann  Hays, 
says  you  have  been  to  her  house,  and  threatened  to  commit 
murder.  What  have  you  to  say  to  the  charge  ?" 

"  Why,  Lord  love  your  honour,"  sajd  Connor,  again  ejecting 
i*  4i,a;iti!y  of  iubaccv,  juice,  and  twirling  his  little  glazed  hat 
round  on  his  thumb ;  "  why,  Lord  love  your  honour,  Ann  is 
the  little  '  painter'  that  I  got  hitched  on  to  my  bows  in  Boston 
four  years  ago.  Murder  her !  I'd  as  soon  a  stove  in  the  bul 
warks  of  my  own  existence." 

Ann  Hays. — u  Well,  your  honour,  I'm  afraid  of  my  life  of 
him." 


A   TAR  IN   TROUBLE.  199 

"  Ah,  Nancy  !  Nancy !"  said  John,  drawing  the  cuff  of  his 
jacket  across  his  right  eye,  and  wiping  away  a  tear  that  stood 
in  its  corner — "  Ah,  Nancy !  I  have  encountered  many  a  breeze 
since  T  left  you  four  years  ago  in  Boston,  but  this  blow  does 
more  injury  to  the  rigging  of  my  heart  than  all  I  have  yet  had 
to  contend  with; — to  be  let  into  shoal  water  by  the  false 
lights  of  an  enemy  is  bad,  but  to  be  deserted  and  disowned 
by  a  craft  that  one  took  in  convoy  with  him  for  life,  is  a 
little  too  much  for  the  timbers  of  my  constitution: — it  is, 
Nancy !" 

Recorder. — "This  language  is  altogether  too  figurative — 
too  technical  for  me.  Can't  you  speak,  Connor,  in  a  manner 
in  which  I  can  better  understand  you.  ?" 

Connor. — "  Certainly,  your  honour.  Then,  keeping  right 
ahead,  without  making  a  tack  either  to  windward  or  leeward, 
I  will  read  over  the  log-book  of  my  life,  as  I  have  it  in  my 
memory,  since  first  I  hailed  Nance.  As  1  said  before,  your 
honour,  we  got  braced  in  Boston  about  four  years  ago.  A 
chaplain,  I  forget  his  name,  but  here's  his  certificate," — pro 
ducing  the  certificate  of  their  marriage — "made  it  all  taut,  and 
I  felt  as  happy  as  if  I  was  sailing  before  a  three  months'  trade 
wind.  I  unfortunately  got  on  a  spree  and  put  to  sea — first  in 
the  U.S.  ship  Ohio,  and  then  in  the  frigate  Columbia.  During 
my  cruise  I  never  forgot  my  Nance,  and  many  a  time  in  the 
silent  watches  of  the  night  used  1  to  look  aloft,  and  fancy  I 
could  see  her  pretty  dimpled  cheeks  and  bright  eyes  smiling 
on  me  among  the  stars  ;  and  often  did  I  fancy,  as  the  wind 
sung  through  the  rigging,  that  I  heard  her  sweet  voice  say, 
4  Pm  true  to  you  still — true  as  the  compass  to  its  point,  Jack 
Connor.'" 

"  But  it  hasn't  been  so,  your  honour ;  for  when  I  came  home 
with  my  pay  in  my  pocket,  to  throw  into  her  apron,  I  found 
she  had  hauled  in  her  anchor  and  put  to  see  with  a  lubber, 
who  knows  nothing  about  any  thing  except  boiling  duff'  and 
making  lobscouse.  Oh,  sir,  it  has  shivered  the  timbers  of 
Jack  Connor,  and  never,  never  more  does  he  expect  to  see 
his  sails  filled  with  the  winds  of  domestic  content." 

Here  Jack  applied  the  cuff  of  his  blue  jacket  to  his  eyes 
again,  and  "mopped  up,"  as  it  were,  the  tears,  as  they  sprung 
out  one  after  another. 

Nancy  then  undertook  to  tell  her  story  in  her  own  way ; 
from  all  of  which  we  learned  that  they  had  been  married  in 
Boston,  as  Jack  said ;  Jack  ran  off  to  sea,  and  she  ran  off  to 


200  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

New  Orleans  with  a  French  cuisinier,  under  whose  "  protec 
tion"  she  now  is  and  wishes  to  remain. 

Jack  remains  in  the  calaboose  till  he  "  ships"  or  finds  some 
one  to  go  security  that  he  will  keep  the  peace.  The  moral 
atmosphere  that  surrounds  him  at  the  present  time  looks  de 
cidedly  squally. 


A  MISTAKE: 

OR,  THE  BROKEN  PLEDGE  AND  THE  FAT  GIRL5S  PORTRAIT. 

OPPOSITE  the  St.  Charles  Hotel  there  stands  at  the  present 
writing,  or  did  stand  on  Friday  night,  a  painting  of  the  fat  girl 
in  a  blue  frock,  white  apron,  and  pantaletts.  As  an  artistical 
production  it  is  nothing  to  brag  of.  It  can  never  be  mistaken 
as  an  emanation  from  the  pencil  of  a  Raphael  or  an  Angelo, 
still  it  is  a  likeness  of  a  human  being,  the  softest  of  the  softer 
sex ;  in  fact  the  colouring  for  flesh  and  blood  is  laid  on  thick, 
and  by  a  man  high,  or  up  a  tree,  it  might  be  mistaken  for  a 
breathing  being.  We  are  told  that  there  be  those  who, 

"  See  Helen's  beauty  in  a  brow  of  Egypt," 

and  of  like  perverted  vision  is  Michael  Grace — a  most  grace 
less  fellow  is  Mike — for  he  thought,  on  Friday  night,  that  the 
picture  of  the  fat  girl  was  the  fat  girl  herself — that  the  coun 
terfeit  presentment  was  the  original. 

"  Ah,  thin,  you're  welcome  down  stairs,  darlin',"  says  Mike, 
addressing  the  painting  (the  fat  girl,  be  it  remembered,  is  ex 
hibited  in  a  room  over  where  the  portrait  hung.)  You're  wel 
come  down  stairs,  a-lanna.  O,  blud-in-ages  but  it's  yoursel1 
is  the  fine  armful ;  but  what  signifies  what  you  are  now  to 
what  you'll  be  when  you  are  twenty.  Why  be  jakes  you'd 
make  a  wife  for  a  man  that  'ud  be  as  big  as  Finn  McCoul." 
(Here  the  canvass  was  agitated  by  the  wind.)  Oh  don't  go 

off  in  a  huflf,  a  cushla,"  said  Mike;  "d 1  a  word  I  sed  of 

you  but  what's  thrue,  for  as  the  ould  song  ses : 

'  Was  I  Paris,  whose  deeds  were  various, 

Or  if,  like  Homer,  I  could  indite, 
I'd  sound  your  praise  and  your  fame  I'd  raise, 

I'd  thrate  your  frinds  and  your  foes  I'd  fight." 

Mike  sung  this  in  a  key  so  loud  that  it  attracted  the  ear  of 


'  Oh,  sir,  it  has  shivered  the  timbers  of  Jack  Connor,  and  never,  never  more  does 
he  expect  to  see  his  sails  filled  with  the  winds  of  domestic  content."— Page  199 


HOW  TO  MAKE  A  RAISE.  201 

the  watchman  who  has  as  great  an  aversion  to  street  minstrels 
at  night  as  a  toper  has  to  water  straight.  He  hurried  to  where 
Mike  was  holding  forth,  and  in  a  manner  as  summarily  as  the 
revolutionary  mobs  of  Paris  hurried  off  their  victims  to  the 
guillotine,  forced  him  along  to  the  watchhouse. 

"  Aisy  Misther,"  said  Mike. 

"  Off  with  you,  you  vagrant,"  said  the  watchman.  If  you 
e  poet  laureat  to  the  fat  girl,  I'll  let  you  see  that  I'm  watch 
man  Ian-writ  to  the  Recorder." 

"  Why  you  contankerous  ould  thief,"  said  Mike,  "  can't  you 
let  me  bid  the  craythur  good  night  and  tell  her  to  take  care 
she  don't  ketch  could  ?" 

"  O,  look  here,  old  feller,"  said  the  watchman,  you  are  la 
bouring  under  a  hoptical  illusion,  that  was'nt  nothin'  but  the 
picture  o'  the  fat  girl  you  was  a  singin'  to — and  a  precious 
ugly  picture  it  is." 

u  O,  d 1  fry  me,"  says  Mike,  "  if  I  could  have  belther 

luck — all  this  comes  from  breaking  the  pledge." 

When  he  arrived  at  the  watchhouse  he  was  searched — a 
temperance  medal  and  three  picayunes  were  found  in  his 
pocket.  Yesterday  morning  he  acknowledged  to  the  Recorder 
he  was  so  drunk  the  night  before  he  could  not  see  a  hole 
through  a  ladder — he  renewed  his  broken  temperance  pledge 
and  was  discharged. 


HOW  TO  MAKE  A  RAISE.    .  > 

MOSES  A.  TRASH  was  yesterday  inducted  to  a  seat  in  the 
prisoner's  box  by  one  of  the  police  officers.  Moses  looked 
like  a  man  against  whom  misfortune  had  been  blowing  a  hard 
wind  all  his  life  time ;  his  flag  of  distress  seemed  never  to 
have  been  taken  in.  He  was  indeed  a  ragocrat  legitimately 
and  of  right. — "  The  vorld,"  said  Moses,  as  he  wended  his 
way  up  Magazine  street  about  twelve  o'clock  on  Wednesday 
night, — "the  vorld  is  a  vicious  vicked  vorld  and  haint  got  no 
sympathy  for  no  one.  If  a  feller  vishes  to  rise  in  an  honest 
vay,  the  ladder  is  pulled  from  under  his  feet  'fore  he  gets  up 
two  steps,  and  down  he  comes.  If  he  tries  to  go  ahead  on 
vot's  called  equitable  principles,  he  runs  off  the  track  in  a 
short  time,  I  tell  you.  I've  rewolved  the  thing  over  in  my 
mind ;  I  looked  at  it  every  vhich  vay  and  find  it  aim  to  bV 


202  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

done  but  by  gammon — gammon  is  a  far  better  article  than 
anthracite  coal  for  firing  up  and  keeping  on  steam  if  you  vant 
to  keep  on  the  railroad  of  fortune.  I  have  a  scheme  now  in 
my  mind — a  'grand  scheme' — and  if  that  don't  succeed  I'll 
report  myself  at  vonce  unfit  for  service — but  it  will,  it  must, 
]  know  it  must;  and  other  fellers  vill  have  a  chance  of  making 
a  fortune  right  off  as  veil  as  I  vill." 

cc  I  say,  mister,  vot  do  you  mean  by  placing  your  thumb  on 
your  nose  and  vorking  your  fingers  ?"  asked  Moses  of  some 
imaginary,  or  at  least  imperceptible  person.  "Don't  you 
think  it's  true ;  veil  I'm  blowed  if  you  don't  see  it  in  the 
papers.  Yes,  I'll  adwertise  some  real  estate  vhich,  if  I  don't 
own  I  should  own ;  and  the  4  fortunate  holders'  shall  be  told 
of  all  kinds  of  prizes.  Tickets  vill  be  sold  off  cheap  and  it 
vill  be  a  c  rare  chance'  for  making  an  inwestment.  Vhat's 
that  you  say  ?  (speaking  again  to  the  invisible  gentleman,) 
I  don't  own  no  real  estate  ?  Vot  of  it ;  aint  a  veil  painted 
map  prettier  any  day  than  real  estate ;  can't  I  have  theatres 
and  hotels  and  all  that  sort  of  things  drawn  out  on  a  piece  of 
parchment  and  made  to  look  jest  as  nat'ral  as  life ;  and  if  I 
can  raise  the  vind  to  pay  the  artist,  vont  it  be  all  right,  because 
then  it  vill  be  vot  I  calls  unincumlered  property.  That's  the 
only  vay  as  I  knows  on  of  making  a  fortin.  It's  vonderful  how 
men  suffer  dust  to  be  thrown  in  their  eyes  ven  a  lottery  is  in 
the  case  ;  I  attributes  it  myself  to  a  constirtutional  veakness  in 
their  natur,  jest  like  drinking  juleps  or  any  other  wice ;  and 
I  doesn't  think  it  can  be  'radicated  by  the  state  legislature 
either,  nor  jn  fact  I  aint  anxious  it  should  till  I  dispose  of  my 
tickets  for  the  unseen,  unknown,  unincumbered,  grand  hum 
bug,  imaginary,  real  estate,  situated  and  lying  and  being,  as 
the  lawyers  say,  in  the  extensive,  flourishing,  prosperous,  and 
favourably  situated  city  of  Smithville,  which  is  to  be  the  future 
seat  of  government  of  all  America;  the  starting  place  of  the 
Columbian  and  European  steam  balloon  carriages,  and  the 
depot  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  marine  railroads.  There,  I'd 
like  10  know  who  vouldn't  buy  my  lottery  tickets  vith  such  a 
grand  flourish  as  that  in  an  adwertisement — vy  they'll  go  off 
like  Colt's  repeating  rifle  ;  they  vill,  and  no  mistake  about  it." 

Feeling  in  an  extasy  of  delight  that  he  had  at  length  found 
out  the  pleasant  art  of  money  catching,  a  science  of  which  he 
had  been  in  pursuit  all  his  life  but  could  never  get  the  hang 
of  it — he  commenced  cutting  up  as  many  capers  as  a  man 
ivith  the  poker,  or  a  drunken  Indian. 


A  STRIKE  AMONG  THE  TAILORS.  203 

Charley,  with  that  anxiety  which  he  ever  evinces  for  the 
safety  and  well  being  of  the  citizens,  took  Moses  up  and  se 
cured  for  him  for  the  night  in  the  calaboose. 

The  Recorder  on  hearing  his  story  yesterday  morning,  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  followed  no  honest  occupation  for  a 
living,  and  ordered  him  to  be  sent  to  the  calaboose  for  thirty 
days.  There  he  will  have  leisure  to  arrange  his  plans  for  the 
drawing  of  his  Grand  Real  Estate  Lottery  Scheme. 


A  STRIKE  AMONG  THE  TAILORS. 

IN  Boston,  New  York  and  Philadelphia  the  tailors  have 
their  strikes,  and  from  a  case  which  came  before  the  Recorder 
recently,  it  would  appear  that  a  portion  at  least  of  the 
"  knights  of  the  thimble"  in  this  city  are  determined  not  to  be 
behind  the  age.  There  seems  to  be  this  difference,  however, 
between  those  of  the  craft  at  the  north  and  the  two — for  that 
was  their  number — who  were  up  before  the  Recorder;  the 
former  struck  for  higher  wages,  the  latter  struck  one  another. 

The  Recorder  having  intimated  to  the  clerk  that  he  was 
ready  to  investigate  the  case  of  the  State  vs.  Fursey,  or  rather 
Stackwell  vs.  Fursey,  that  official,  with  grave  intonation  and 
distinct  emphasis,  called  out  the  names  of  the  parties.  Fursey, 
who  was  standing  near,  responded  on  his  part  to  the  call,  and 
Stackwell  rose  from  one  of  the  back  benches  and  answered 
the  summons.  They  were  in  every  thing  but  their  calling  per 
fectly  antipodal. — Fursey's  age  was  some  where  in  the  forties — 
Stackwell's  in  the  twenties.  Fursey  was  short  and  shapeless 
as  a  bag  of  coffee — Stackwell  was  tall  and  attenuated  as  a 
fishing  pole. — Fursey's  legs  were  bowed  like  a  saddler's 
clamps — Stackwell's  projected  out  from  the  knees  like  a  dis 
tended  compass.  Fursey  had  beard  on  his  face  as  strong  as 
the  bristles  of  a  flesh  brush — Stackwell's  was  as  light  and 
downy  as  the  feathers  of  a  young  duck.  Fursey  had  his  hair 
cropped  in  roundhead  fashion — Stackwell  had  his  combed 
over  his  collar  a  la  cavalier.  Fursey's  nose,  as  if  attracted  by 
the  stars,  seemed  to  turn  up  to  heaven— Stackwell's  was  of 
the  most  approved  acquiline  order.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to 
pursue  the  contrast,  for  it  was  carried  out  in  every  feature  and 
lineament  of  the  parties.  Fursey  was  buttoned  up  in  a  seedy 


204  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE.1' 

black   frock — Stackwell   sported  a   fashionably   made   snuff- 
coloured  dress  coat. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Stackwell,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  you  complain 
that  the  defendant  has  assaulted  you — state  how." 

tf  May  it  please  the  court,"  said  Stackwell,  pressing  his  hair 
smoothly  round  his  head  with  his  left  hand,  and  drawing  a 
white  "  wipe"  from  his  coat  with  his  right,  "  May  it  please 
the  court,  the  annoyance  which  I  receive  from  this  individ 
ual — [pointing  to  Fursey] — personally  and  professionally,  is 
too  much  for  any  gentleman  to  put  up  with  in  silence.  I  have 
therefore  brought  him  before  your  honour,  that  measures  may 
be  taken  to  prevent  a  recurrence  of  such  treatment." 

"  Gammon !"  said  Fursey,  casting  a  disdainful  glance  at 
Stackwell,  and  a  look  of  reliance  at  the  Recorder,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  wait  till  you  hear  my  story." 

"  But  how  or  why  does  he  annoy  you  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

Stackwell  applied  the  white  cambric  to  his  forehead,  and 
proceeded  with  as  much  affected  dignity  as  a  young  barrister 
would  in  arguing  his  first  brief. 

"  We  ar.e  both  tailors,  or  rather  I  am,  and  he  professes  to  be 
one ;  but  he  is  altogether  ignorant  of  the  science  and  fashion 
able  mysteries  of  our  art " 

"  More  gammon  !"  said  Fursey. 

"  Silence  !"  said  a  police  man. 

"  Well,  1  aint  agoin'  to  let  my  karacter  be  cabbaged  away 
right  before  my  face  by  that  ere  locomotive  scissors,  no  how 
you  can  fix  it,"  said  Fursey. 

Stackwell  proceeded  : — "  We  unfortunately  live  in  the  same 
street — are  near  neighbours ;  I  cut,  exclusively,  on  geomet 
rical  principles " 

"Yes,"  said  Fursey,  interrupting  him,  "and,  Needle-nose, 
you  cut  and  run  away  with  the  rent  from  the  last  house  you 
were  in,  in  Royal  street.  You  call  that  cutting  on  geometry 
principles — do  you  ?" 

The  Recorder  told  Fursey  he  should  confine  him  for  con 
tempt  of  court,  unless  he  kept  silent.  He  bade  the  complain 
ant  proceed. 

"  To  be  brief,  your  honour,  said  Stackwell — to  press  off  the 
suit,  if  I  may  use  the  expression — he  sees  the  patronage  with 
which  I  am  honoured,  and  he  envies  me  for  it;  he  knows  the 
style  of  work  I  make  up — work  unequalled  in  point  of  style 
and  elegance  of  finish,  in  London  or  Paris  itself ;  and  knowing 
he  cannot  approach  it,  he  feels  jealous — professionally  jeal- 


THE   MISTAKES  OF  A  NIGHT.  205 

ous — he  takes  every  method  of  annoying  me. — No  later  than 
this  morning  I  found  this  disgraceful  libel  pasted  upon  my 
door,  and  I  have  the  best  authority  for  saying  it  was  done  by 
this  individual.'1  Here  he  exhibited  a  pen  and  ink  caricature 
of  himself  represented  with  a  head  of  cabbage  under  each  arm, 
underneath  which  was  written, 

"STACKWELL, 
Green  Grocer,  and  Dealer  in  CABBAGE." 

He  closed  his  complaint  by  saying  he  merely  wanted  Fursey 
bound  over  to  keep  the  peace,  and  prevented  from  in  any  way 
annoying  him. 

"  I  never  says  nothing  to  him,  your  honour,"  said  Fursey. 
"He  aint  no  regular  tailor  at  all,  he  can  cut  up  airs  much 
better  than  he  can  cut  up  a  piece  of  cloth ;  he's  an  innovater 
on  the  old  chalk  system,  and  knows  precious  little  about  the 
new  one.  My  thimble,  and  it  hain't  got  no  bottom,  would 
hold  all  the  sense  he's  got;  they  calls  him  the  dandy  tailor, 
and  the  cracked  tailor— but  I  b'lieve  he's  not  only  cracked, 
but  broke  right  into  smash,  he  aint  got  but  two  negro  journey 
men  now " 

The  Recorder  said  he  had  heard  enough  to  understand  the 
merits  of  the  case.  He  told  Fursey  he  should  bind  him  not 
to  offer  personal  violence  to  Stackwell,  and  advised  them  both 
to  act  in  a  spirit  of  mutual  forbearance  towards  each  other. 


THE  MISTAKES  OF  A  NIGHT. 

«  THERE  he  is !" 

"Where?" 

"  Why,  there ;  that  feller  with  the  shocking  bad  hat,  next 
to  him  what's  got  the  long  beard  and  a  nose  so  red  that  its 
reflection  would  blow  up  a  powder  magazine !" 

"  What,  he  there  what's  got  the  plug  of  tobacco  in  his 
cheek — that  raises  it  out  and  makes  it  look  like  an  Indian 
mound  on  a  prairie  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  That  ain't  he,  be  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  it  is ;  haint  the  watchman  taken  down  bis  name, 
and  haint  he  acknowledged  it  himself." 

"  He  haint  got  no  sword  though." 

w  No,  but  he  had  a  thunderin'  long  knife." 


208  PICKINGS   FROM  THE  "PICAYUNE." 

This  dialogue  caught  our  ear  as  we  entered  the  police  office 
yesterday ;  it  was  carried  on  between  two  persons  who  ap 
peared  to  be  police  officers,  and  who  seemed  to  think  that 
great  honours  awaited  the  watch  department  for  the  arrest  of 
the  incognito  prisoner.  Several  other  persons  in  court  were 
pointing  to  him  too;  we  could  hear  some  of  them  speak  of 
$5000  reward."  Indeed  he  seemed  to  be  the  "  observed  of 
11  observers,"  and  from  the  attention  which  he  attracted  we 
t  once  concluded  that  there  was  some  more  serious  charge 
against  him  than  "found  drunk."  Circumstances  soon  en 
lightened  us. 

"  Thomas  W.  Dorr  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"•Thomas  W.  Dorr!"  involuntarily  exclaimed  we,  adding 
the  drop  of  our  surprise  to  the  sea  of  astonishment  that  already 
filled  the  court. 

"  Thomas  W.  Dorr  ?"  said  the  Recorder  a  second  time,  and 
as  he  did  the  man  who  seemed  such  a  practical  advocate  for 
the  home  consumption  of  tobacco,  stood  up  in  the  dock. — 
Expectorating  a  large  quantity  of  the  concentrated  extract  of 
the  article  on  the  floor,  he  replied  in  an  indolent,  loaferish 
tone,  u  that  aint  my  name,  your  honour." 

"  What,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  are  you  not  Thomas  Dorr  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  is." 

"  Thomas  W.  -Dorr  ?" 

"No,  your  honour;  the  watchman  said  I  was  Hue,  but  I 
doesn't  think  I  was  so  far  gone.  I  could  distinguish  him 
werry  well  from  a  gentleman." 

"Yes,  your  honour,"  said  the  watchman,  "and  he  said  as 
how  he  was  the  sure-enough  'Governor  Dorr.'" 

"Why,  Charley,"  said  the  prisoner,  "  you're  coming  the 
large  licks  now,  sure.  When  you  asked  me  if  I  wasn't  Gov. 
Dorr  I  could  scarcely  keep  from  larfin  right  out,  and  I  said  I 
was,  cause  they  used  to  call  me  Governor  when  I  owned  a 
broad-horn.  But  I  ask  the  Squire  himself  if  I  look  like  a  real 
live  Governor? — besides,  I  hadn't  no  sword  like  Governor 
Dorr,  nor  I  didn't  run  away." 

These,  the  Recorder  now  began  to  think,  were  pretty  strong 
proofs  that  the  prisoner  was  not  the  great  proclaimed,  as  the 
watchman  had  erroneously  concluded — that  in  fact  he  was  a 
poor  loafer  who  bore  the  name  of  Tom  Dorr  without  any  W. 
to  it.  and  that  the  watchman  drew  his  conclusions  from  prem 
ises  not  based  on  facts. 

The  prisoner  was  dismissed ;  the  watchman  was  dissatisfied 


RIVAL  SUITORS.  207 

at  the  expose  of  his  blunders,  and  nothing  was  left  him  of  the 
$5000  reward  but  its  visions.  The  audience  now  began  to 
laugh  at  the  watchman  and  the  Dorr  denouement.  Several  of 
them  said  they  knew  very  well  the  prisoner  was  not  the  Rhode 
Island  hero — nor  no  more  like  him  than  a  mud  turtle  is  like 
the  white  horse  of  the  prairies  ! 


RIVAL  SUITORS. 

"  Beware  of  jealousy." 

BRIDGET  MORAN  is  a  nice  young  'ooman,  as  Mr.  Weller, 
junior,  would  say.  She  coolis  a  nice  dinner  daily,  wears  a 
nice  gown  and  goes  to  church  on  Sunday;  she  lives  in  the 
basement  story  of  a  nice  house  in  Canal  street,  is  admired  by 
more  than  one  nice  young  man,  and  is  occasionally  visited  by 
a  few  friends,  who  form  a  nice  but  small  tea  party.  Martin 
Donahoe  is  an  advocate  of  internal  improvement,  and  unlike 
many  advocates  of  many  other  systems,  Martin  practices  what 
he  preaches  ;  he  is  a  pavier,  and  with  a  philanthropy  truly 
commendable,  is  ever  improving  the  public  ways,  though  often 
unmindful  of  the  error  of  his  own  ways.  Bridget  has  been 
seen  more  than  once  in  conversation  with  Martin,  as  he  pound 
ed  his  paving  stones,  and  Martin  more  than  once  has  dropt 
into  the  kitchen  in  Canal  street  of  an  evening  to  take  tea  with 
Bridget.  Martin  believes  that— 

"  The  heart  that  once  truly  loves  never  forgets, 
But  truly  loves  on  to  the  close." 

And  his  affections  therefore  clung  tp  Bridget  like  moss  to  a 
pine  tree.  Bridget,  on  the  contrary,  thinks  a  little  flirtation 
allowable,  and  Martin,  unfortunately  for  his  own  peace  of  mind, 
has  found  out  that  others  than  he  shares  the  hospitality  of  the 
kitchen  in  Canal  street,  over  which,  or  in  which,  Bridget  rules 
Fupreme. 

On  Wednesday  evening  Martin  had  his  face  operated  on 
by  the  barber ;  he  donned  his  blue  cloth  coat,  put  himself  in 
courting  order,  and  without  previously  giving  intimation  of 
his  design,  he  popped  into  the  kitchen  in  Canal  street;  but, 
mirabih  visu  !  there  sat  Bridget  at  the  little  square  tea-table 
where  Martin  himself  had  so  often  sat  with  her  before,  and 
right  opposite  to  her  an  outlandish  looking  fellow,  who  seemed 


208  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

to  have  registered  a  vow  against  ever  shaving  of  or  being  ever 
shaved — his  whole  face  was  covered  with  an  overgrown  mou 
stache.  • 

"Good  evening  to  you,  Mr.  Donahoe,"  said  Bridget,  endeav 
ouring  to  conceal  the  trepidation  which  Martin's  presence 
threw  her  into. 

Martin  made  no  reply,  but  he  gave  a  look  at  the  man  with 
the  long  blue  beard  that  would  have  shaved  it  off  if  the  pro 
cess  of  lathering  had  been  previously  performed. 

"Mr.  Donahoe,"  said  Bridget,  introducing  Martin  to  the 
man  with  the  long  beard. 

The  man  with  the  long  beard  stood  up,  stretched  his  hand 
to  Martin  and  said — "  Ah,  Senor  Donwho,  me  vera  glad  to  see 
you,  vera." 

"  Why,  who  the  d — 1  cares  whether  you  are  or  not,  you 
ourang  outang  you  ?"  said  Martin. 

"  O,  behave  daycent,  Martin,"  said  Bridget ;  "  this  is  a  Frinch 
gintleman  that  came  on  business  up  stairs — don't  offind  him." 

"And  if  he  came  on  business  up  stairs,"  says  Martin,"  what 
brought  him  down  stairs,  the  baboon  ?"  He  a  Frinch  gintle 
man  !  he's  just  as  much  like  one  as  a  hedgehog  is  like  an  anty- 
lope.  Why,  I'd  make  a  fortune  wid  the  animal  if  I  carried 
him  round  the  counthry  in  a  cage." 

"  O,  you  ought  to  respect  me  if  you  don't  respect  yourself," 
said  Bridget. 

"By  gar,  Senor  Donwho,  you  be  one  vera  offend  fellow,  and 
not  no  gentleman,"  said  blue  beard. 

"  Shut  your  potato  chopping  machine ;"  said  Martin — "  you 
haythen,  you,  or  I'll  give  you  a  polthogue  that'll  knock  you 
into  the  middle  of  next  week ;  what  brought  a  vizard  faced 
fellow  like  you  here,  to  parley-vous  with  a  daycent  girl ;  clear 
out  now  or  I'll  macadamize  you  while  you'd  be  sayin'  pavin' 
stones." 

Martin  made  a  grab  at  the  Frenchman,  and  in  doing  so, 
knocked  the  tea-table  and  its  contents  over.  The  broken  china 
rattled  on  the  floor,  the  tea  kettle  poured  out  on  the  pants  of 
the  Frenchman  as  it  fell,  and  he  cried  fire !  fire !  Bridget 
shouted  Martin !  Martin !  and  in  a  few  minutes  there  was  a 
posse  of  watchmen  in  the  basement  story  of  the  nice  house  in 
Canal  street. 

Martin  arid  the  man  with  the  long  beard  were  instantly  ar 
rested  and  taken  to  the  calabo;ose. 

When  the  Recorder  heard  the  whole  story  yesterday  morn- 


MORGAN    MANLY.  209 

ing,  he  saw  with  one  glance  of  his  quick  eye,  that  the  beautiful 
Biddy  Moran  and  the  "  green-eyed  monster,"  were  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  whole  affray.  He  merely  required  the  parties  to 
enter  on  their  own  recognisances  to  keep  the  peace. 


MORGAN  MANLY; 

THE  MAN  THAT  NEVER  SAID  "  NO  !" 

MORGAN  MANLY  was  among  those  who  figured  before  the 
Recorder  yesterday,  and  a  very  sorry  figure  poor  Morgan  cut. 

He  was,  as  he  said  himself,  a  unit  in  the  numerical  popula 
tion  of  mankind,  but  a  mere  cipher  in  the  social  scale — an 
affirmative  abstractedly,  but  a  negative  practically — a  machine 
incapable  of  self-action  till  put  in  motion  by  others — an  in 
strument  that  was  mute  till  played  on  by  interested  parties — a 
sound  that  but  echoed  other  men's  voices.  Such  were  some 
of  the  attributes  of  Mr.  Manly,  as  announced  by  himself  when 
the  Recorder  asked  him  what  he  was. 

"  The  watchman  says  you  were  tipsy  when  he  arrested  you, 
Mr.  Manly,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Let  it  be  so  written,"  retorted  Manly. 

"  He  says,  too,  that  you  were  abusive  to  him,"  continued 
the  Recorder. 

"  I  have  no  denial  to  offer,"  answered  Manly. 

"  And  that,  in  coming  to  the  watchhouse,  you  made  an  at 
tempt  to  escape  from  him,"  added  the  Recorder. 

"  Let  the  presumption  be  in  favour  of  the  truth  of  the  watch 
man's  allegation,"  said  Manly. 

u  Then  you  admit  it  all,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Every  word  of  it,"  said  Manly. 

"And  have  no  negative  testimony  to  offer,"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  Not  a  word,"  said  Manly.  "  I  have  made  it  a  principle 
of  my  life  never  to  deny  any  thing ;  never  to  say  no  !  to  any 
thing ;  and  it  is  this  peculiarity  that  has  influenced  my  whole 
life.  JVb  is  a  word,  sir,  not  in  my  vocabulary,  and  I  doubt  if 
I  know  its  meaning.  If  a  man  asks  me  to  take  a  drink,  I  never 
say  no  !  If  a  man  asks  me  to  lend  a  V,  and  I  have  it,  I  never 
say  no.  If  a  man  asks  me  to  play  a  game  of  cards,  I  never 
say  no.  If  I  am  asked  to  go  a  gunning,  I  never  say  no,  what 
ever  may  be  the  personal  inconvenience  to  myself.  If  I  am 
71 


210  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

asked  to  subscribe  to  a  charity,  I  never  say  no,  however  much 
I  may  need  contributions  myself.  If  a  quack  asks  me  to  re 
commend  his  medicines,  I  never  say  no,  though  it  may  be  as 
poisonous  as  aquafortis,  for  all  I  know  to  the  contrary.  When 
asked  to  endorse  for  a  friend,  I  never  said  no  ;  and  if  a  travel 
ling  mesmeriser  call  on  me  to  vouch  for  his  clairvoyant  ca 
pacity,  I  never  say  no,  though  I  were  to  know  him  to  be  a  very 
juggler.  Why,  sir,  my  own  miserable  unhappy  marriage  was 
the  consequence  of  my  never  saying  no.  It  was  leap  year, 
sir :  she  knew  my  weakness — took  advantage  of  it,  popped  the 
question,  and  I  said — yes  /" 

The  Recorder  told  Mr.  Manly  that  he  thought  him  altogether 
too  pliant-minded  for  the  present  times,  when  the  prevailing 
axiom  seemed  to  be  that  every  one  should  take  care  of  himself. 
He  dismissed  him,  however,  hoping  that  in  future  he  would 
not  be  so  prodigal  of  his  u  noes,"  whenever  he  was  asked  or 
invited  to  do  any  thing  to  his  own  or  the  public  prejudice. 


THEOPHILUS  TWIST; 

OR,  A  TAKER-OFF  TAKEN  OFF. 

THEOPHILUS  TWIST  is  a  nice  young  man — a  very  nice 
young  man — at  least  so  Miss  Sweetwell  calls  him.  He  sports  an 
imperial,  carries  an  ebony  cane,  wears  patent  polished-leather 
boots,  cheats  his  tailor,  smokes  cigars,  sings  patriotic  songs  at 
public  dinners,  and  sentimental  ones  at  private  parties.  The- 
ophilus  loves — he  swears  he  loves — Miss  Sweetwell.  Not 
satisfied  with  singing  for  her,  when  they  met  at  the  house  of 
a  mutual  friend,  on  Wednesday  evening — 

"  Be  mine,  dear  maid,  this  faithful  heart 

Shall  never  prove  untrue, 
'Twere  easier  far  from  life  to  part, 

Than  cease  to  live  with  you" — 

he  many  hours  afterwards  went  to  her  window  and  warbled 
forth— 

"  Could  deeds  my  heart  discover, 
Could  valour  gain  thy  charms, 
I'd  prove  myself  thy  lover,- 
Before  a  world  in  arms!" 

Now  be  it  known  that  the  mind  of  Miss  Sweetwell  is  not 
altogether  free  from  the  promptings  of  the  green-eyed  monster 


THEOPHILUS  TWIST.  211 

She  thinks  the  love  of  Theophilus  is  divided,  or  rather  tripli 
cated  ;  she  thinks  he  loves  Arabella  Rodwell — in  this  she  is 
mistaken ;  she  believes  he  loves  brandy  toddies — in  this  she 
is  not  mistaken.  Theophilus  has  an  attachment  for  the  ardent; 
it  is,  he  says,  but  an  acquired  one,  while  his  passion  for  Miss 
Sweetwell  is,  he  swears,  deep  rooted  in  the  labyrinths  of  his 
innermost  heart.  The  latter  he  calls,  in  his  lighter  moods,  an 
affection  of  the  heart — the  former  he  dubs  a  constitutional 
weakness.  Theophilus,  too,  has  his  patriotic  attachments.  He 
loves  his  country  with  a  love  deep  as  the  fathomless  ocean,  wide 
as  the  western  prairies,  and  impetuous  as  the  torrent  of  Niagara. 
Having  on  Wednesday  night  poured  out  his  lay  to  his  lady 
love,  and  having  heard  no  tone  nor  received  any  token  of  recip 
rocation,  other  than  an  intimation  from  an  ebony-faced  Abigail 
that  if  he  would  not  clear  out  the  watch  would  be  called,  he 

" turned  and  left  the  spot, 

Ah,  do  not  deem  him  weak" — 

for  although  he  staggered  as  he  walked,  whiskey  punch  and 
not  unrequited  love  was  the  cause. 

It  is  characteristic  of  great  minds  not  to  brood  over  blighted 
hopes  nor  to  dwell  on  dissolved  prospects ;  so  Theophilus, 
suddenly  forgetting  the  faithlessness  of  his  mistress,  turned  to 
soliliquize  on  his  country  and  its  capacities : 

"  It's  a  noble  country — it's  a  great  country — it's  an  exten 
sive — I  may  say  an  expansive — country — it's  a  glorious  coun 
try,"  said  Theophilus,  emphasizing  his  words  as  he  approached 
the  climax.  "  It  can  '  swaller'  Mexico,  gouge  both  eyes  out  of 
Great  Britain,  and  whip  all  creation  !  And  yet  some  folks  say  it's 
in  danger.  Danger !  Why,  I'd  insure  it  myself  for  a  quarter  per 
cent.,  and  include  Texas  and  Oregon  in  the  policy;  who's  afraid?" 
*  "  I  doesn't  know  as  there  is  any  one,"  said  the  watchman. 
"You  doesn't  look  like  one  as  'ud  strike  terror  into  the  soul 
of  any  body,  as  the  feller's  dreams  did  in  the  play.  But  I  say 
stranger,  what's  the  use  of  you  mussing  ?" 

u  Use,"  said  Theophilus  ;  "  what's  the  use  of  a  man  living 
if  he  can't  dwell  with  patriotic  pride  on  the  merits  of  his 
country.  To  be  sure,  Horace  Walpole  once  said  that  patriotism 
was  the  last  resort  of  rascals ;  but  I  say  it  is  the  last  resort  of  dis 
carded  lovers.  Hurra,  then,  for  my  country,  and  hurra  for  the  con 
stitution  that  guaranties  to  every  one  the  liberty  of  speech;  hurra!" 

"  O,  that  ere's  a  wulgar  error,"  said  the  watchman ;  "  the 
constitution  don't  guarantee  to  men  as  is  dumb  the  right  of 


212  PICKINGS    FROM    THE  "  PICAYUNE." 

speech,  'cause  it  can't  do  it  no  how  it  can  fix  it.  Besides  the 
ordinances  guaranties  to  every  citizen,  'cept  watchmen,  the 
right  of  sleep,  and  as  the  old  'oman  of  eighty  said,  when  she 
got  married,  i  there's  a  time  for  every  thing ;'  so,  if  you  don't 
shut  up,  I  take  you  off,  sure." 

"  What !  take  me  off!"  said  Theophilus — "  me !" — pointing 
the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand  to  his  breast — "  who  have 
taken-off  the  most  celebrated  native  and  foreign  actors — our 
most  distinguished  public  speakers  and  most  eccentric  private 
citizens — take  me  off!" 

u  Yes,  take  you  off,"  said  the  watchman — "right  off,  and 
right  off  he  took  him. 

After  having  taken  off  so  many,  Theophilus  was  permitted  to 
take  himself  off  yesterday  by  the  Recorder,  on  paying  his  jail  fees. 


PATRIOTISM  IN  A  SAD  PLIGHT. 

ILLUSTRATION  is  a  pervading  principle  of  the  present  times. 
We  have  illustrated  books,  illustrated  newspapers,  illustrated 
sciences  and  illustrated  -systems.  Ours  may  be  considered 
illustrated  police  reports;  for  instead  of  giving  every  name  to 
be  found  on  the  docket,  of  persons  who  were  arrested  for  being 
high  and  found  ZOMJ,  we  select  one  as  an  illustration  of  the  lot. 
To-day  we  make  choice  of  John  Mason,  who  was  yesterday 
on  Recorder  Baldwin's  roll,  and  who  was  evidently  into  his 
liquor  the  night  before  like  "a  thousand  of  brick." 

"  John  Mason  ?"  said  the  Recorder. 

"  In  my  more  palmy  days,"  said  an  individual,  standing  up 
in  the  dock,  who  from  his  appearance  had  been  engaged  in  a 
knock-down  and  drag-out  fight  with  Fortune,  and  had  got  the 
worst  in  the  rencounter — "  in  my  more  palmy  days,  I  sa«y, 
your  honour,  when  friends,  like  bees  with  a  full-blown  butter 
cup  in  June,  buzzed  around  me ;  when  that  fickle  jade,  Fortune, 
scattered  flowers  o'er  my  path ;  and  when  the  still  more  false 
and  far  more  fickle  Elizabeth  Jenkins  loved — or  said  and  vowed 
she  loved  me — that  was  a  name  which  I  never  denied — never 
disowned ;  and  I  shall  not  do  it  now,  when  even  the  posses 
sion  of  a  good  name  seems  of  doubtful  tenure.  J\fy  name, 
sir,  is  John  Mason." 

Recorder. — u  Mr.  Mason,  you  were  found  lying  drunk  last 
night.  What  are  you  ?" 

Mason — [Drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  with 


PATRIOTISM  IN  A   SAD  PLIGHT.  213 

his  right  hand  brushing  his  clotted  and  uncombed  hair  off  his 
forehead]. — u  I  am  a  man,  your  honour,  more  sinned  against 
— it  may  be — than  sinning.  Slightly  inebriated  I  may  have 
been,  'tis  true ;  true  it  is,  also,  that  the  watchman  may  have 
been  influenced  by  a  proper  sense  of  duty  in  arresting  me; 
but  I  protest  against  all  such  gratuitous  solicitude  for  my 
welfare.  Your  honour  will  recollect  that  Pope  says — 

'  Not  always  actions  show  the  man  ;  we  find 
Who  does  a  kindness  is  not  therefore  kind.'  " 

Recorder. — "My  object  is  not  to  criticise  the  'Beauties  of 
Pope,'  but  to  ascertain  who  Mason  is,  and  why  he  got  drunk." 
J\tason. — "  Then  I  shall  vouchsafe  to  your  honour  such  in 
formation  on  these  subjects  as  I  am  myself  possessed  of.  I,  sir, 
am  a  victim — the  victim  of  patriotism.  You  see  that  hat,  sir! — 
[Here  he  held  up  for  the  examination  of  the  Recorder,  a  shock 
ing  bad  hat.] — That  hat,  sir  had  once  a  brim  and  an  unbro 
ken  crown ;  was  once  a  whole  hat — but  that  was  before  I  became 
a  patriot.  This  coat,  sir— now  of  thread-bare  grain  and  at 
elbows  broken — this  was,  in  times  gone  by,  a  coat  of  fashion 
able  cut,  which  would  not  have  shamed  the  wearer ;— this, 

too,  was  before  I  became  a  patriot.   These  pants but  I  will 

not  proceed.  Suffice  it  to  say,  sir,  had  I  minded  my  business 
better,  and  felt  in  the  fate  of  my  country  less  interest,  J  would 
not  be  standing  before  you  to-day.  But  no,  I  neglected  my 
business — because  I  was  a  patriot!  I  made  speeches  which 
made  me  enemies — because  I  was  a  patriot !  I  went  to  public 
political  meetings  when  I  should  have  been  at  private  prayer- 
meetings — because  1  was  a  patriot!  I  sung  political  songs,  and 
got  politically  and  personally  drunk — because  1  was  a  patriot !  I 
now,  however,  your  honour,  begin  to  discover  my  error;  I  begin 
to  think  that  Curtius  was  but  a  Sam  Patch,  who  leaped  into  the 
gulf,  to  attain  notoriety  for  himself,  not  to  save  his  country  ;  and 
1  begin  to  find  out  that — 

'  He  that  takes 

Deep  in  his  soft  credulity  the  stamp 
Design'd  by  loud  declaimers  on  the  part 
Of  liberty,  ihemselves  the  slaves  of  lust, 
Incurs  derision  for  his  easy  faith 
And  lack  ot  knowledge.' 
I  begin—" 

The  Recorder  here  stopped  him  short,  and  seeing  that  Mr. 
Mason  had  seen  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  was  about  to  do 
more  for  himself  and  less  for  his  country  in  future,  let  him 
off  without  even  exacting  jail  fees  from  him. 


214  PICKINGS  FROM  THE  "  PICAYUNE." 


A  RUM  'UN. 

JOHN  HOXY  made  his  obeisance  to  the  Recorder  on  Sunday 
morning.  He  was  arrested  the  previous  night  on  the  Levee, 
but  whether  he  was  travelling  towards  Carrollton,  the  Third 
Municipality,  the  river,  or  the  swamp,  the  watchman  for  the 
life  of  him  could  not  tell.  He  would  strike  of  at  a  tangent 
here,  and  trace  out  an  obtuse  angle  here  or  a  parallelogram 
there,  as  if  he  were  supplying  the  place  of  a  compass  in  draw 
ing  out  geometrical  figures. 

Hoxy  was  an  old  looking  fellow.  Nature  drew  lines  across 
his  forehead  which  the  non-application  of  water  rendered 
black,  so  that  it  would  be  naturally  concluded  his  brains  were 
expunged ;  his  proboscis  seemed  to  have  been  stuck  on  his 
face  out  of  spite.  There  was  a  curl  in  his  upper  lip  like  a 
horizontal  01  in  the  front  of  a  fiddle,  and  his  face  was  as 
varied  in  colour  as  a  dying  dolphin. 

"  Hoxy,"  says  the  Recorder,  "  you  were  arrested  last  night 
on  the  Levee,  so  late  as  twelve  o'clock.  Where  were  you 
going  ?" 

"  Well,  Judge,"  said  Hoxy,  "  that's  a  puzzler;  Pm  bless'd 
if  I  knew  where  I  was  going.  I'll  tell  you  what,  Squire, 
hard  cider  may  be  a  very  good  thing,  but  when  taken  to  excess 
it  creates  a  mighty  strange  sensation,  I  tell  you.  I  took  a  horn 
or  two  extra  of  it  at  the  log  cabin  frolic  in  the  evening,  and 
I'm  blamed  if  it  didn't  leave  me  in  such  a  state  as  that  I  thought 
I  had  discovered  perpetual  motion.  I  believed  that  the  Mis 
sissippi  had  broke  loose  and  was  running  like  fury  down  lo 
the  swamp;  that  the  ships  and  steamboats  at  the  Levee  weve 
navigating  the  clouds  ;  that  the  St.  Charles  Hotel  had  performed 
a  somerset  and  was  sitting  on  its  dome,  resting  itself  aftur 
the  fatigue  consequent  on  the  exertion  ;  I  thought  the  burning 
of  the  lamps  was  nothing  less  than  a  general  conflagration, 
and  that  great  big  black  troopers,  encased  in  armour  and  riding 
long  tailed  horses,  were  issuing  from  the  old  calaboose,  and 
cutting  off  the  heads  of  every  one  who  came  in  their  way." 

"How  did  you  escape  the  general  slaughter,  Mr.  Hoxy?" 
asked  the  Recorder. 

"  Why  bless  your  honour's  innocent  eyes,"  said  Hoxy, "  my 
head  was  knocked  off  twice,  but  I  placed  it  on  each  time  by 


THE  AMERICAN   EAGLE  AND  DANIEL  Q'CONNELL.         215 

the  application  of  the  highly  concentrated  syrup  of  sarsaparilla 
and  pills — it  was  the  genuine  article,  your  honour,  got  at  old 
96,  and  they  could'nt  therefore  kill  this  child." 

"  Did  you  take  any  thing  but  hard  cider  on  Saturday  ?"  said 
the  Recorder. 

w  Nothing,"  said  Hoxy,  "  except  a  few  gin  slings  in  the 
morning,  three  or  four  toddies  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and, 
forget  how  many,  brandies  and  water  in  the  evening." 

"  O,  1  see  how  it  is,"  says  the  Recorder,  instead  of  this 
general  confusion  which  you  fancied  you  witnessed — this 
legion  of  black  emissaries  and  lopping  off  of  heads,  it  was  the 
man  with  the  poker  that  ministered  to  your  mind's  disease. — 
Take  him  down  for  thirty  days,"  added  the  Recorder,  "  for 
he  is  not  compus  mentis  even  yet." 

When  the  officer  went  to  take  Hoxy  down  he  battled  as 
furiously  against  him  as  Don  Quixote  did  against  the  wind 
mill,  swearing  that  they  wanted  to  make  a  President  of  the 
United  States  of  him  but  he  would  return  to  private  life. 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE  AND  DANIEL  O'CONNELL 

BRYAN  MAGUIRE  and  Phil  Mahony  were  yesterday  charged 
before  the  Recorder  with  fighting  and  disturbing  the  peace  on 
Monday  night.  Their  appearance  told  that  they  belonged  to 
neither  the  peace  nor  temperance  societies. 

"Mahony  and  Maguire,  you  have  been  fighting,-"  said  the 
Recorder.  "  Have  you  any  thing  to  say  to  the  charge  ?" 

Mahony  looked  at  Maguire,  and  Maguire  scratched  his  head 
with  his  dexter  hand  and  looked  at  the  ground. 

"  I  see  that  neither  of  you  has  any  defence  to  make,"  said 
the  Recorder. 

"  O  yis,  yer  hanour,"  said  Bryan,  «  Phil  has ;  he'll  till  ye 
all  about  it,  for  he's  got  the  larnin' :  he  brags  himself  of  sackin' 
a  schoolmaster,  and  of  bein'  as  far  as  4  The  Rule  of  Three  in 
Fractions.'  Spake  to  him,  Phil." 

And  acting  on  the  hint,  Phil  spoke  : — "  May  it  plase  this 
hanourable  coort;  meself  and  Bryan  here  was  last  night  takin' 
two  juleps,  as  happy  and  as  comfortable  as  if  we'd  found  a 
leperahaun's  goold,  or  was  in  possession  of  a  four  lafed 
shamrouge,  and  cud  git  what  we  wanted  jist  for  askin'  it. 
And  how  cud  we  be  otherwise  ?  for,  as  I  said  afore,  there  way 


216  PICKINGS  FROM    THE   "  PICA YUMi." 

our  juleps  afore  us,  wkl  the  ice  shinin'  in  the  tumblers  like 
lumps  of  diamonds,  and  the  mint  clusthered  all  over  .the  top 
o'  thim,  remindin'  a  body  of  the  green  fields  of  ould  Ireland. 
<  Now  I  think,'  sis  Bryan  to  me " 

"  I  think,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  that  I  evince  great  patience 
in  listening  to  all  this.  Why  do  you  not  at  once  reply  to  the 
charge  ?" 

"That's  what  I'm  comin'  to,"  said  Phil:  "so,  as  I  was 
sayin',  sis  Bryan  to  me,  sis  he,  '  I  b'lieve,  Phil,'  sis  he,  '  there 
was  a  time  in  Ireland  whin  it  'ud  be  thrason  to  dhrink  one  of 
thim  julips  there,'  sis  he.  '  I  suppose  ye  mane  since  Father 
Mathew  made  thim  all  timperance  min  ?'  sis  I.  '  No,'  sis  he ; 
'  but  in  '98.'  '  Why  in  '98  ?'  sis  I.  '  Jist  bekase  they're  green? 
sis  he ;  'ye  know  any  one  that  showed  a  prefirence  in  thim 
days  for  the  national  colour  in  any  way,  they  wor  aither  hung 
or  sint  to  Botany  Bay.  'Don't  ye  know,'  sis  he,  'what  the 
ould  song  sis  ? — 

"  It's  a  poor  disthrissed  country 

As  iver  yit  was  seen  ; 
They're  hangi'n  min  and  womin 
For  the  wearin'  of  the  green,'  " 

'O,I  know  all  that,'  sis  I;  'yis,  and  it  'ud  be  so  still  only  for 
O'Connell— 

"  O,  Dan  was  the  boy 
That  in  spite  of  King  or  Queen 

Pulled  down  the  orange 
And  ran  up  the  green.'  " 

And  after  singin'  this  verse  he  tuck  up  his  tumbler  and  said, 
4  Here's  his  health  !'  '  I'll  not  dhrink  it,'  sis  I.  '  Thin  ye're  no 
Irishman,'  sis  he.  '  As  good  as  you  are,'  sis  I ;  '  but  I'll 
dhrink  no  man's  health  who  sis  a  word  aginst  the  Amirican 
Aigle,  that  floats  above  and  watches  over  the  nist  where  lib 
erty  hatches  her  young.'  '  O,  I  knew  ye  had  the  Saxon  dhrop 
in  ye,'  sis  he.  '  It's  a  lie,'  sis  J.  '  Take  that  thin,'  sis  he. 
'And  that,'  sis  I;  and  to  it  we  wint,  and  at  it  we  kept  till 
the  watchman  arristed  us.  But  we  talked  the  thing  over  in 
the  watchhouse  last  night,  and  made  it  all  up.  Bryan  sis  he'd 
suffer  to  be  cursed  be  the  priest  rayther  than  propose  O'Con- 
neh  s  health,  if  he  knew  that  he  said  a  word  against  the 
Amirican  Aigle;  so  ii  yer  hauour  lits  us  off  t., is  tun"*  »-e'li 
naither  brake  the  pace  nor  one  another's  head  for  a  month  of 
Sundays." 

The  Recorder  took  them  at  their  words  and  ordered  their 
immediate  discharge. 

THE  EMU. 


I  x 


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